A Dithering Fortuity
by peanut18
Summary: While working in the library one sluggish day, Hermione snaps. Things spiral out of control as she attempts to uncover what happened to her beloved sanity and soon finds herself fighting for her life against a force and people she never expected. HerXDrac
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's character. But the story plot is all mine :3

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Chapter Uno

The smell of old parchment and books had always soothed her, not that she necessarily liked the title of "Book worm". Hermione Granger really couldn't help the fact that she enjoyed reading, learning, and all that jazz. It was like how Harry was born to fly and catch the Golden Snitch; she was born to pursue knowledge. In her first year at Hogwarts, she had abhorred the title her zealous attitude for learning had earned her. By the second and third year, it still bothered her and at night frustrated tears would stain her pillow cases. In her fourth and fifth year, she began to adjust, realizing that despite the burdensome reputation that haunted her, it was a true blessing. Her brilliance that allowed her to help Harry get around Umbridge's absurd rules in their fifth year had lifted her spirits. Hermione became a woman comfortable with who she was.

A silly name couldn't swallow the pride that bubbled up when she accomplished a new advanced spell. When Hermione got to her sixth year at school, she had a skin of steel. No amounts of taunts from the Slytherin table could send her to her dorm in tears. She liked to think of herself as quiet the accomplished witch. A complete Bad Ass, if she didn't mind saying so. Hermione pumped herself up; no one could affect her self esteem but herself. A simple trip to the library would set her right and soon she'd be humming merrily down the hallways. Knowledge was something she could always rely on… unfortunately her well of smarts had dried up suddenly and quite unexpectedly.

_While normally the effects that the Oveshorn herb has on the human body are mild, when abused, the consequences can be devastating. In 23 C.E. Chedar Malthus, a prestigious wizard at the time in Ethiopia developed the uses of the herb… he made a credible account… of what happens… when…used…incorrectly…_

Her train of thought slowed. The powerful juices pumping through her brain thickened and slugged her mechanical mind. Her train of thought had been perfect a minute ago, chugging along as she wrote her essay for Advanced Potions. She was halfway through and was charging full steam for the finish line. It was to be another pristine essay churned out by Hermione Granger. Then. Why. Had. She. Stopped? Hermione attempted to set her mind back on the right track and readied her quill, but the words never came. They solidified inside somewhere along her arm, unable to flow down her wrist to the tip of the quill and onto the page.

She frowned and looked up from her parchment. The library was for the most part empty and warm. Lazy sunlight clung to heavy clouds of dust as they floated past the ancient stained glass windows. Every now and then a swish of a cloak would flick past an opening in the numerous shelves, but besides that she was alone. A seemingly perfect place to work, yet at the moment, however, it wasn't very perfect. Sweat clung to the back of her neck even though she had tied back the messy curls. Hermione tugged off her sweater and hitched up her skirt, allowing fresh air to breeze across her knees.

But it still wasn't enough. The heat of the Library weighed down on her, a choking blanket. She looked down at her essay, ignoring the bead of sweat trickling down her temple. She willed the words to come, calling them, but they didn't listen. Hermione drew and shaky breath and looked up again. She felt… odd. Why couldn't she write? What had been so clear a moment before was now lost in a fog, trapped somewhere in her mind.

The quill dropped from her fingers, fingers that trembled ever so slightly. Hermione didn't notice. She was to busy trying to swallow. Her mouth had become painfully _dry_, like crackled parchment. She needed water, she needed cool air. A bubble of panic was slowly working its way into her stomach and up to her chest. The normally calm and collected book worm was beginning to slip. She pushed herself from the table and staggered towards the nearest book shelf. For some reason, she had to get out of her refuge. She was going to choke… she was going to _die_.

_The world isn't a perfect sphere of solid time and space. There is a fine web between what is real, and what seems to be real. We don't truly know which is which. All we do know is that there are large holes in the web between the two, and sometimes things slip._

Hermione Granger crashed into a second year, causing their pile of books to tumble to the ground in chaos. She didn't bother to stop and apologize to the offended 12-year-old, in fact, she didn't even notice the protests aimed at her back. All she knew was that she needed to get out. The only problem was she didn't know where out was. Her frantic mind scrambled for an answer as she weaved her way from the library. Her feet stepped and tripped over a dizzying amount of stone hallways. People where saying things to her, grabbing her. All her mind could make out was the flapping of their mouths and the pressure on her arms. She shrugged them all away. They were all too hot. This heat was killing her. The heat radiated from their bodies in piercing waves, causing her to gag. Now seeing was beginning to be an issue. Figures and places blurred in and out of her vision.

Her hands met wood. Doors, she knew they were doors. Hermione pushed and was greeted by and rush of cool air. It was a relief, but it wasn't enough. The heat was behind her. She turned to look and saw a crowd of people, all flapping their mouths. It reminded her of stranded fish and she would have laughed, but she was too dry. Any sound would crack her throat and then she would have to go around with a huge gap across her Adam's apple. Now wouldn't that look silly?

She turned towards the outside, where the cool air was. It was blindingly bright, where ever she was. The heat was beginning to drain from her face, but she was still parched. _So parched… I need water. WATER._ One stumbling, yet clear thought managed to come out of the thickness of her mind. _WATER._ That's what she needed. If she found water, she would be alright. Hermione clung to the wooden doors and looked out into the brightness. That's when she saw it, a clear gathering of water. The sun twinkled off its surface, it looked inviting. It was seductive. Sudden strength found itself in her legs, and she began to run. Everything else disappeared as she neared her instinctual need.

It seemed that as soon as she had seen it, she was there. With a thoughtless leap, she was air born before cold, refreshing water crashed about her. It shot up her nose, cleared her eyes, deafened her ears, and relaxed her muscles. Hermione gently floated down till she landed in a bed of soft green algae. The water thriving plants wove around her arms, comforting her. The many arms of plant life acted like a blanket being tucked around her. It was so… nice down here. Maybe she could just rest for a while before coming back up to the surface; it would be a nice little break. She felt she deserved it.

* * *

Everyone stood in silent horror. No one knew what to say. Had they all gone mad? Or had Hermione Granger just bolt from the castle like a bat out of hell and had plunged herself into the lake. She had looked like the insane with her hair flying wildly in every direction. The silence gradually changed into a soft murmur as people awkwardly shifted her feet. She hadn't come to the surface yet. Should we go get her? She'll come up any minute now, I'm sure of it. Uneasy words floated from the crowd, yet no one moved.

Draco Malfoy shifted his shoulders against the tree he was against. The shock of the sight had already left him. Now he watched the scene with interest. What had Granger gotten herself into this time? His usual façade of apathy began to slip as time passed. She still hadn't come to the surface. Some one else would save her, surely. Malfoy smoothed a blonde thread of hair back into its place and cast a cool eye onto his companions. Crabb and Goyle watched the lake with puzzled silence. The event would have confused anyone, but considering his minions I.Q., the two had a better chance of solving world hunger than to piece together an explanation of what had just occurred. Malfoy looked back at the lake.

Everyone seemed to be stuck where they were standing. She was going to drown if someone didn't act quickly. With a twitching eye, Malfoy discretely took out his wand. He aimed at Seamus; he was closest to the water. The small amount of energy aimed at the boy shook him out of his trace and with a strangled yell, he leaped into the lake. A second later there was a flurry of activity as everyone moved at once. Seamus leaping into the water had triggered everyone else to react. There were screams, sobs, and yells as people crowded the lake shore. The castle's main doors flew open with a bang as Potter dashed from the stone steps with the Weasel close on his heels.

There was a splash and Seamus surfaced, dragging a pale and water logged Hermione along with him. She was engulfed in the crowd and Malfoy lost sight of her, not that it mattered. Someone dashed towards the castle, most likely to get help. Draco turned his attention back to his friends, satisfied. He wasn't heartless enough to let the mudblood die, but there was no way in hell he would do the saving himself.

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I hope you guys found this intersting. This is a bit of an expirement so if anyone likes it and reviews, I'll keep on writing. But I NEED REVIEWS! I hope for the story to be action packed and suspenseful.

peanut18


	2. Chapter 2

Big thanks to those of you who reviewed. It always means alot. 3

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Chapter Dos

Hermione Granger's cheeks burned a humiliated pink as she took a gloomy gulp from her pumpkin juice. She could feel the stares of practically everyone in the Great Hall smoldering a hole into the back of her head. Everyone knew what had happened last Monday. If they hadn't seen it, some one had told them about it. About how Hermione Granger finally snapped under the pressure and had gone mad, jumping into the lake as proof. She peeked up from her plate of toast and eggs. _God, even the teachers are giving me looks._ Hermione pushed her partially eaten breakfast away, suddenly she felt very full. After being interrogated by Harry, Ron, _and_ Professor Dumbledor, everyone had seemed to lay off with the incessant questions. Apparently the word had gotten out that if Ms. Granger complained of people bothering her with questions, the culprit would suffer a nasty full weeks worth of detentions with Snape. The threat seemed to work, and people held their tongues. But that didn't stop the looks, the whispering, and the increasingly agitated state that it was putting Hermione into.

"We are off for Quiddich practice. See you around lunch?" Harry said, snapping her out of her reverie.

He spoke softly and placed a soft hand on her shoulder. Ron gave her an awkward smile before shifting his gaze towards the exit. The two had been walking on egg shells ever since the incident. In the dim lamp light of the medical wing, Hermione had sworn to them she was ok. She must have just finally cracked after years of academic stress. Everyone has mental breakdowns every now and then. It was all fine and she would be her normal self in no time. When the O.W.L.S. had come along in their fifth year, she could list off quite a few who had been shipped off to the infirmary in hysterics. Although… Hermione didn't know of anybody who had gone to the extreme of jumping into the lake.

Hermione nodded at her best friends and small smiles were exchanged. Harry had been soft spoken and comforting around her, while Ron had just been silent and awkward. She tore her eyes away from the backs of her retreating friends and scanned the Great Hall. Many eyes darted away from hers; of course the bloody gits had been watching. Huffing, she smoothed a stubborn strand away from her forehead and looked down at her plate. The toast seemed intolerably dry and the eggs were tasteless. The Saturday morning seemed to off to an auspicious start.

Harry and Ron would be gone practically all day with a case of Quiddich on the brain, leaving her day empty of all plans. She didn't feel like hitting the books, which was probably a good idea, and although sixth years and up could visit Hogsmead, she didn't feel up to the walk. Fresh air would do her some good, and the May sunshine outside was cheery and inviting. Maybe if she went out onto the grounds for some sun. She could rest under a tree and read the novel Lavender had given her. She had suggested Hermione read it; the romance story might relax her. The kind act had warmed her heart and Hermione had agreed to give a try. Reading outside would be nice, and besides, she could probably pay Hagrid a visit while she was out there. With her plan formulated in her mind, Hermione stood and left the Great Hall, and her audience, behind.

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It was a delightful day, the kind of Saturday that reminded her of picnics with her family when she was little. The memory brought a smile to her lips as she descended the steps outside of the castle. A gentle breeze teases her skirt and cooled her toes. Particularly fond of her school skirt, Hermione has decided to spend her day off relaxing in flip flops, an airy tank top, and the plaid skirt she donned everyday. Hermione liked to keep the bit of formality in her wardrobe, but like any other teenager, enjoyed cutting back when the time called for it.

The bright sunshine warming her skin was the perfect cure and soon she found herself smiling like a loon. Things were starting to look up. Hermione headed down the lawns, keeping clear of the lake, and towards a large, friendly looking oak. Its shade was cool and refreshing, allowing just enough sunlight to escape through the lattice work of leaves. Hermione un-tucked her robes from her bag and spread the dark material on the ground. She then settled down on her makeshift blanket, leaning against the trunk as she cracked open the small paperbound novel.

"Hitting the books already, Granger?"

Hermione cringed, she hadn't even gotten past the first bloody sentence and she was interrupted. The interruption was by the most unfortunate person, what a bonus. Forcing a cheery smile, Hermione looked up at Draco Malfoy. As formal and coy as always, Malfoy had his uniform on, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His tie was undone, and the way he leaned against the tree trunk suggested he was in a testing mood. The slime ball was even reading over her shoulder. Hermione's hackles began to rise.

"It's a frilly romance novel at that! Well aren't you full of surprises. First wild dives in the lake, now romance," He said, his trademark smirk lighting up his face.

"What do you care, ferret?" Hermione went back to her book, feigning nonchalance.

"It just seems like you finally starting to crack. After years of being the insufferable know-it-all…," Malfoy said, inspecting his nails. He paused, waiting for the verbal barb to sink in.

"Actually I'm doing quite fine, thank you. It's been five days and I'm more relaxed and trying something new for once. Lavender gave me thi-," Hermione started, waving the book.

"Granger, I think jumping in the lake was definitely something 'new for once'," Malfoy laughed, standing away from the tree. It was fortunate that he had moved. Had Malfoy waited a second longer the hard corner of Hermione's novel would have connected with his skull. Instead the book sailed harmlessly by, landing with a heavy thump on the grass.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" She was ready to rip his head off.

"Fine, fine. I just came over to ask what it was like. What _was_ it like, mudblood?" Malfoy let the words slide off his tongue, like poisoned honey.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, brow creasing into a furious frown.

"What was it like to _lose_ yourself?"

Malfoy didn't wait for an answer. He flashed a satisfied smile at her before turning on his heel and sauntering away. Hermione was too shocked to have answered; his question loaded her mind like a weight. What was that supposed to mean, to lose herself. All she had had was a panic attack; it was normal, scary, but normal. Never would have Hermione thought that she had _lost_ herself. Malfoy had become the size of an ant, heading across the lawns towards the main doors. He had come all the way out here just to mess with her head… what a bastard.

"I didn't lose myself, you prick!" Hermione yelled, jumping to her feet. For a moment she figured he must have been out of ear shot, he kept walking. Just as he reached the steps, however, he turned slightly and waved an arm up in the air. _What the hell?_

Shaken, Hermione watched him disappear in the castle. What had that been all about? Was Malfoy attempting to make her break down again? Maybe he was attempting to play with her mind and keep her from getting on top again. What other motive could he possibly have? Ferret boy saw an opportunity to get himself to the top of the class, so he was going for her throat while she was down. He was _such_ a bastard!

Hermione stomped over to retrieve her novel. The book had landed on its spine, open for the world to read. Obviously the book wasn't used to being a projectile. She brushed the dirt from the cover and shoved it into her bag before reaching for her robes. Reading time had most definitely been ruined. She'd take a crack at it later, but right now all desire to read the story had deserted her. She'd go visit Hagrid, as she had planned to do anyways. Hermione set off towards his hut, to angry to look back at the castle.

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Hagrid was weeding in the pumpkin patch. His broad back was bent; a large sweat stain ran from his shoulders to his middle. The day had gathered heat as the morning passed on, causing more students and teachers to roll back their sleeves and head to the castle for cool sanctuary. Hermione silently climbed up onto the fence next to the patch, watching him work. The weeds were horrendous, large spiky looking things. Wicked barbs covered the stems that grew into large purple leaves. Hagrid had donned thick leather gloves for the task.

"Nasty blighters, these things are. Always springing up an' sucking the life outta the soil before I 'ave the chance to plant," Hagrid said, pausing in mid yank to smile at her.

"How have you been Hagrid? I haven't been down to see in a couple of weeks," Hermione beamed at him, it was always nice to see a friendly face.

"Yeh, I know. An' where are Harry and Ron?" Hagrid took a break from his work and strode over to the fence, taking long and measure strides over the wicked weeds.

"Quiddich practice, apparently they have a double practice today. Everyone is really determined to win this year," Hermione said as she smoothed her skirt.

"Well ye' guys deserve to win. I know Harry's determin' to," Hagrid chuckled to himself has he pulled off the leather gloves. With a mighty swat, he smacked the gloves against a fencepost, beating out all the dust. He wiped his brow and then shot Hermione a look out of the corner of his eye. "Yeh must be tired of people askin'… but how are yeh doing?"

"I'm fine, just tired and feeling a little frayed. Embarrassed too, by the way I freaked out Monday. I don't really know what happened," Hermione sagged. Hagrid laid his plate sized hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Hey now Hermione, it happens to the best 'o us," Hagrid gave her a smile before pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione hugged her giant friend in return.

"Let's hav' ourselves a cup 'o tea, I could use the break," Hagrid said, standing. He picked up a hoe from its perch on the fence. "Just le' me put this tool away."

Hagrid picked his way across the patch and disappeared into his shed. On his way out he stopped in the door way, staring across the fence and into the Forbidden Forest. His demeanor changed, face intense and hard as he scrutinized what ever he was looking at. His hand twitched towards where he normally kept his crossbow. A sudden chill crept up Hermione's spine, causing a shudder to shake her thin frame. Alarmed, she hopped down from the fence.

"Hagrid, what is it?" Hermione called out, wrapping her arms about her.

"Huh? Oh, nothin' I suppose. Just thought I saw somethin' lurking in the forest over there. A bit uncomfortably near, if yeh ask me. I'll hav' to go out an' check, see if any o' the creatures are runnin' lose," Hagrid said, keeping his eyes on the underbrush of the forest. He slowly tore his eyes away and faced her, giving her a comforting smile before ushering her into his hut.

* * *

Hermione rolled over in bed, eyes sore from reading. After tea at Hagrid's, she had spent the day in the common room reading. Lavender's book was an addictive one. The love story was set in England during the 1700's. The way the characters met was ridiculously absurd and the main characters were flawless beauties, but it was her first romance book, and Hermione didn't care. She was already halfway through the novel, devouring page after page. Now she was lying in bed, exhausted from the obsessive reading. Harry and Ron had acted more normal around her after practice which, according to Harry, went spectacularly well. Things were good, and beginning to feel more normal.

Her eyes dragged down as she snuggled into her pillow. For once she didn't have any homework to complete tomorrow. All her teachers had convinced her to relax and to not worry about assignments, saying she'd have passed them anyways. It was kind of them and Hermione appreciated it. Sleep began to lull her away as she drowsily watched the shadow of an owl sweep by her dormitory window.

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_Camille was brushing her hair. As Hermione stepped into the room, watching the young girl carefully pull the combed teeth through each strand of hair. It was a beautiful sight; the child had the most exquisite blond hair. The pale skinned hands that held the brush competed with the silky hair. Today she was wearing a soft green bodice with matching skirts. The maid had polished her shoes that morning and ironed every article of clothing. They would all need to look their best today. _

"_Stop watching me, Ardelle. You know how much I dislike it," Camille hissed, the hand that had been brushing paused. Cold eyes snaked over to where Hermione stood._

"_Sono spiacente, Camille. I didn't mean to intrude," Hermione ducked her head, and made to leave the room._

"_You're not dressed. Shame su voi, you know we're going to see His Lordship today," Camille scorned as she stood from her bed. The room was growing hot, causing sweat to collect between Hermione's breasts, pressed up high in her tight fitting bodice._

"_I will finish dressing, I had only paused for a moment," Hermione wiped the perspiration from her forehead. This heavy dress was so hot in the summer heat, she felt faint._

"_The Lord will want to see you in his finest. I'd imagine he'll be very glad to see you," Camille said. Her eyes were hard, like granite. Hermione wanted to leave, Camille was a dangerous girl to be around…_

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Ginny sighed into Harry's mouth. The lip to lip contact always seemed to sweep her off her feet. The goodnight kiss was always Ginny's favorite part of her day. Harry liked to play the romantic by sweeping her off her feet every night before the parted ways to their dorms. As the kissed ended, she smiled and they whispered their goodnights. Ginny giggled as Harry brushed a playful kiss across her temple. The stairs seemed to be made of clouds as she ascended towards her dormitory. What a perfect day.

Ginny's head was plunged out of the heavens as she opened her dormitory door.

Hermione Granger was _screaming_.

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I hope this second chapter was enjoyable. I plan for things to really get rocking.

peanut18


	3. Chapter 3

I want to thank you all for reviewing! It was suck a lovely surprise after such a bad day. You all made my day brighter (: If you like what you read, keep reviewing. It inspires me. A big thanks again to all of you!

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Chapter Tres

_Fire… burning…_

"Hermione!"

_Choking… all consuming heat… _

"God Damnit, Hermione! Wake up!"

_She was going to die…die…_

"She won't stop thrashing. Somebody help me hold her! HERMIONE!"

_God… it hurt…_

"Hermione!"

Hermione emerged from her nightmare gasping, shaking and drenched in sweat. Every girl in the dormitory was leaning over her, pale and frightened. Lavender clutched the novel she had given her; a pale green tinted her face. Ginny had Hermione straddled, holding her arms to her sides. They made eye contact and Hermione melted, broken sobs escaped her chest in painful shudders. Ginny gathered the older girl into her arms and tried to comfort her, despite her thundering heart. She had never seen Hermione so _out of control_. It was alarming to see her friend and mentor so fallen to pieces. Tears began to prick the corners of Ginny's eyes as she whispered comforts into Hermione's hair.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione! I never would have given you the book if I knew it would make you have a nightmare!" Lavender dissolved into tears, clutching the novel as she slumped down next to Hermione.

"Don't be stupid. A romance couldn't possibly make her have a nightmare. She must still just be really stressed," Ginny snapped, tightening her grip around Hermione as she let out a particularly violent sob.

"Everything is okay, Hermione. Please stop crying. It was just a dream," Lavender said, putting her arms around Hermione as well.

"We're here. It's okay. The nightmare is over," Parvarti soothed as she knelt and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Soon a symphony of soft, cooing voices engulfed Hermione as her dorm mates all attempted to calm her down. No one enjoyed seeing their classmate and friend so completely broken.

* * *

The bathroom tiles were cold on her bare feet, but Hermione was too tired to care. Her eyes felt swollen and scratchy, she had cried most of the night. Her throat felt sore and her stomach threatened to flip over at the slightest disturbance. But what could she have expected, that's what happens when someone sobs their heart out. She let out a long sigh ass she stepped into the large bath at the center of the tiled room. The warm water began to caress the worries out of her body as soft pink bubbles danced across the surface. A bath at Hogwarts had to be one of Hermione's favorite activities. You couldn't find 37 different types of magical bath bubbles anywhere else.

She stretched her back and waded to the center of the bath and stood. The water came just up to her shoulders and with a smile, Hermione allowed herself to fall back into the bubbles. Sinking to the bottom of the warm darkness, Hermione tried to forget the nightmare that had ripped though her mind. Everyone has a nightmare, that's what the girls had told her. They tried to get her to fall back to sleep, but she couldn't. Instead Hermione had lain in bed through the early morning, staring up at the roof of her canopy bed.

Everyone had nightmares… of course everyone had nightmares. Hermione had had her own fair share of nightmares through her years. But none had ever come close to this one. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had driven her to hysterics. To be honest she couldn't really even remember what her dream had been about. What ever it had been, it caused a heat and panic, a deep rooted fear that sprung from her stomach and took a vice grip on her lungs? It was an extreme feeling, but Hermione remembered it. She had felt the same as she had when she had jumped into the lake. She had felt as though she needed to douse some sort of flame that was threatening to devour her.

She rose to the surface and filled her lungs with sweet scented air. Hermione tried to ignore the fear that was prickling her stomach by zealously scrubbing her hair and body. Could she wash away the panic and fear? Was it possible to scrub the nightmare away from her memory? Hermione climbed from the tub in defeat. No amount of washing was going to get rid of the growing knowledge that something just wasn't quite right. Hermione didn't care how bad mental breakdown's could get, this wasn't normal.

The blue fluffy towel she had brought with her cheered her a bit. It fought against the cold air of the castle and felt cozy. Today was going to be a normal day. She would get dressed into her favorite jeans and spend the day relaxing next to the fire in the common room watching Harry and Ron play chest. It was always amusing to see how wrapped up and energetic they got. Ginny walked in as Hermione was pulling her blouse from her bath bag. A friendly smile was passed and Ginny started preparing for a bath of her own.

Hermione went to pull on her favorite blouse but stopped abruptly. For a second she could have seen something red on her hip. She turned her hip towards the mirror with growing horror. The red she had seen was part of a large mark on her skin and as she craned her neck to get a better view she could make out the shape. It was the perfect imprint of a human hand, blistering an angry red.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, her voice seemed abnormally quiet.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, looking up from one of the bath's many faucets.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Hermione asked, nodding her head towards her hip. Ginny cocked her head to the side and stared for a moment. When she met Hermione's gaze, a look of confusion was plastered across her face.

"What are you talking about? What am I supposed to be seeing?" Ginny asked, standing and coming over to inspect Hermione's back.

"Don't you see it? It's huge, right there on my hip," Hermione craned her neck further and pointed.

"I really don't see anything. Well, I mean there's a little sore but that's nothing to worry about. It's practically smaller than a quill tip," Ginny laughed, heading back over to the bath. Wide-eyed, Hermione watched Ginny preparing her bath. She couldn't see it? Hermione snaked a hand back and lightly ran her finger over the mark. She gasped as a stinging pain lit up the entire hand print. It was real, she wasn't imagining it. Then why couldn't Ginny see it?

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, turning and looking at the sound of the gasp.

"I-I'm fine. I think I'll head down for breakfast," Hermione stammered. She gave Ginny a weak smile and finished putting her blouse on and grabbed her bag. She didn't hear Ginny's goodbye as she headed out the door. Her mind was too fuddled with worries and thoughts.

* * *

Draco snaked behind a statue, watching as Crabbe and Pansy walked past. Their pace was brisk and determined. They were looking for him. Malfoy allowed a small sigh when they disappeared at the end of the hallway. It was nice to have witless minions to do his bidding, but at times they were too witless. Pansy stuck to him like glue, a little too obvious with her affections for her own good. Crabbe and Goyle made awful conversation and to be frank, sometimes Malfoy just needed to get away. He walked out from the statue, satisfied with his escape. Where to now? His stomach rumbled at the thought and subconsciously started to head towards the Great Hall.

As Malfoy approached the steps, he was greeted with a delightful view. Hermione Granger, with her foot sunk up to mid-calve on the trick step. She really was starting to lose it; everyone always knew to skip the 17th step on the staircase down from the fourth floor. The opportunity was just too perfect. Same as it had been the other day as he watched her leave the Great Hall. Her little freak out session last Monday, though he would admit it to no one, intrigued him. In the seven years that he had known Granger, she had always been cool and collected… with the exception of when she had clocked him in the nose a few years back. Malfoy frowned at the memory, what a blow that had been to his reputation. Shaking off the memories, Malfoy smirked and swung into action.

"I see you missed that step there, Granger. But I guess it's not your fault, Dumbledor should replace that step to protect one as mentally retarded as yourself," Malfoy glided into the scene. His smirk broadened as he saw Hermione stiffen. Taking a seat on the step next to her, Malfoy almost laughed out loud at the bright, embarrassed blush that stained her cheeks.

"Sod the fuck off, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood," Hermione snapped, tugging at her leg.

Malfoy was about to retort but the words died in his throat. Something on Grangers back had caught his eye. Her blouse had ridden up in her efforts to release her foot, revealing an ugly red hand mark. It looked as though someone had smacked her with a force completely unimaginable. That or someone with fire for hands had touched her. The shock caused all mirth to disappear from his face. What was going on with Granger? Who would hit someone that hard? Who would hit Granger (ignoring the fact that he would love to and would have, but unfortunately he was too much of a gentleman for that)?

"Granger, how the _hell_ did you get that?" Malfoy asked, pointing at the mark.

Hermione stilled. Suddenly with an almighty yank, Hermione freed her foot and fled down the stair case, leaving her bag forgotten. She looked back only once, and Malfoy saw tears.

* * *

Yeah I know... I'm a bit friendly with the whole cliff hanger like endings. I can't help it smiles From this point on Malfoy is going to start taking a more active role in Hermione's problem. Hope you all enjoyed!

peanut18


	4. Chapter 4

Hello to all my lovelies,

A big thanks for taking the time read, you guys keep me inspired. This is the longest chapter to far (Thank God for Sundays, I actually had time to write alot) I had wanted to jump right back into writing yeasterday but I was called into duty by babysitting the siblings. Feeding a tot baby food squash and peas and then watching The Wiggles dvd fifty million times (twitch) did, however give me time to think about what I wanted to put into this chapter. I made sure to edit this one so hopefully all the small spelling errors and such have been taken care of. I hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter Quatro

Tears blurred Hermione's vision as she ran. She had no clue where she was going, she was too confused to be bothered by the thought. A destination seemed a small matter compared to the questions flying about in her brain. Malfoy could see the hand print? How is that? How could Malfoy, the biggest asshole this side of England, see the mark while one of her best friends only saw a small little sore? It just didn't make sense. But then again, this past week had made no sense for Hermione Granger at all. Her sensible and precise world had been torn to sheds by a bloody panic attack in the library.

_That wasn't a goddamn panic attack!_ Hermione furiously wiped at her tears and turned around a random corner. The walking without care was doing her some good; it allowed the cranks and wheels in her head to start to turn. Hermione was smart, and smart girls didn't allow these things to completely jam up their lives. There was an explanation for everything that was happening to her. Hermione knew the mark was real. The pain when touched was awful. The fear from the nightmare and from the panic attack was just too strong, too palatable to be anything else but real.

_Okay, Hermione, take a look at this logically. If you were a muggle, the only answer would be that you're going insane. But you're most definitely _not_ a muggle. If I look at this from a wizarding stand point, I would think that I'm under some sort of curse…_

Hermione froze. The thought of being placed under a curse was frightening, but that wasn't why she stopped halfway through her thoughts. It was the feeling that she wasn't _alone_ that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Hermione was a sensible girl; she had a logical head on her shoulders… so she knew that behind her, a pair of eyes were staring her down. In a magical castle, it could be anything. It could be one of the many ghosts roaming the halls. It could even be Filch's cat, looking for trouble makers. Taking all of this into account, Hermione slowly turned, with an air of calm, to face her observer.

No one was there. All she saw was a dark, empty hallway. Hermione's thoughtless march had led her to one of the lower floors, the dungeons. No windows graced these corridors. Only lonely and some what ominous torches lined the walls, giving light to the students and teachers passing by. However, on a Sunday morning, no one would be bustling by to get to potions or such. Everyone would be in the Great Hall, eating biscuits and herring, eggs and bacon. Hermione was completely alone. She had half expected to see Mrs. Norris. The cat was always following people about, sniffing out mischief with her ancient nose.

Maybe it had been a ghost? Perhaps just passing through the hallways and pausing momentarily to stare at the lone student in casual clothing with curiosity. After all, it was Hogwarts, anything could happen. Cats and ghosts didn't scare Hermione Granger, it was the fleeting thought that maybe it was a person. That it was someone watching her from the shadows with a purpose. Hermione shook off the chills that tickled her spine and gave the shadows a good look. The memory of Hagrid looking off into the Forbidden Forest suddenly came to her mind, uncalled for and unwanted. A heavy, cold unease began to settle in the pit of her stomach. If she didn't know any better… she would say that someone was standing there, just beyond the reach of the torches dancing light.

It was weird how the torch light made shadows against the walls. It leaped and jumped, flickered in intensity and then in dimness. The light was unpredictable and the shapes it made constantly changed and tricked the eyes. At the moment, it gave the appearance that someone was standing there, facing her direction. There seemed to be a denser area in the wavering darkness, forming the silhouette of a head. The darkness then flowed down and made what could have passed for a rode. The resemblance was eerie. She could almost make out the arms and hands, resting at the sides of the figure. Torchlight and shadows were just that, torchlight and shadows. Chiding herself, Hermione made to turn away. However she stopped, completely and utterly glued to the spot. Ice and adrenaline shot to her stomach and chest in painful, terrifying stabs.

That shadow, the one that looked so similar to a human figure, had just taken a step towards her.

"Hermione?"

She screamed, the panic command pumping through her body. Hermione whirled around with her heart hitting the back of her throat, and then with astounding relief, she almost slumped to the floor. It was Harry, just Harry. Hermione clung to her blouse, where her heart had slide back into its rightful place inside. There Harry stood with an arm outstretched, offering her his hand. He looked worried, concern lighting up his green eyes. With a weak smile, she took his hand and stepped closer. The fright had actually been painful, her chest felt tight.

"Are you okay? Hannah said she had seen you run past the Great Hall in tears," saying that, Harry ran a thumb over his friends cheek. He wiped away the forgotten tears that had begun to crust. "Are you not feeling any better? We can talk if you still feel stressed. Ron and I are here for you."

"I'm sorry, you just scared me… badly," Hermione said, breathless.

"Sorry. I had no idea you would completely freak out on me. What were you looking at," Harry asked, the concern in his eyes intensified.

Sudden fear stabbed at her and she turned to face the shadows. What ever she had seen, it was gone. There was nothing but the coarse stone wall flickering in and out of sight. That hadn't been a figment of her imagination; shadows didn't simply start walking towards people. On the other hand, _people_ hiding in the shadows could. Hermione swallowed, and turned back to Harry. When she spoke, her voice seemed small and confused, "It thought that- I mean there was someone standing over there."

"Hermione… no one is over there. We are alone down here," Harry said as he craned his neck, looking over her shoulder into the darkness. Harry looked back at Hermione, scanning her face. Then, to Hermione's horror, his expression changed from one of concern, to one of sympathy. _He didn't believe her._

"Come on, let's go up to breakfast. Everyone at the table is really worried about you," Harry said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. When he felt her hesitation, he gave her a smile and said, "Don't worry about it." Harry nodded his head back at the hallway.

"Okay. I am a bit hungry," Hermione lied, she felt distant and light headed. Ginny hadn't seen the mark and now Harry didn't believe her about the person in the shadows. Indignant rage began to boil up inside when suddenly a clear voice spoke out in her head. It was her voice of reason. _You completely bugged out and jumped in a lake, what do you expect them to think? As far as they are concerned, you are still suffering relapses from your so called 'panic attack'._

Hermione let Harry lead her away from the dungeons in a friendly embrace. Harry did care about her; there was no doubt in that. He wanted take care of his best friend; after all, Hermione had come through for him in tight spots before. She knew all of this, she understood Harry's compassion and concern, but that didn't stop it from hurting. It hurt to know that he thought she was ill. Hermione was too deep in self pity to feel the prickling sensation of being watched as she left.

* * *

Ron met them halfway to the Great Hall. He and Harry had split up to look for her since all Hannah had given them was the general direction she had gone in. Ron rested his hands on his knees, face flushed.

"Bloody Hell, Hermione. You had us worried," he said, standing and walking over to them. He had a look of worry tinged with anger but as he came closer and saw her tear stained face, his strong emotions disappeared. Ron quickly looked the other direction and suddenly seeming uncomfortable.

"Right then, I'm starved. Let's go get some food," Ron grunted, taking the lead to the Hall. He had been this way around Hermione since Monday. For a moment, she had seen the strength inside of Ronald Weasly, but for now the awkwardness had returned.

As they entered the Great Hall, Ginny quickly stood from her place. She walked over to Hermione calmly; she had the foresight to know that running would only place more unwanted attention on her friend. All gentle smiles and carefree words, Hermione's friends led her to the table and filled her plate as though to say, "You're getting thin, so eat up." They all talked about school matters, Quiddich, and the up coming Summer's Eve festival at Hogsmead. Seventh year students were allowed to attend the celebrations, a treat offered by the school for making it to the end of their final year.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed as she drew Hermione's bag out from under the table, "I almost forgot. You wouldn't believe who brought this to me before you guys came in. _Malfoy_, of all people! He wouldn't tell me how he got the bag. He just sat it down on the table and with an odd look said, 'Give this to your loopy friend'. Absolutely bizarre! Do you know how he got it?"

"An ink bottle fell out of it and I went after it," Hermione lied, "I've been a little scrambled lately so I guess I forgot the bag where I dropped it. It has my name on it; Malfoy must have felt like returning it so he could throw some insults at me."

It was a crappy lie, but no one dared to call her out on it.

* * *

Malfoy tossed the empty chocolate frog wrapper to the floor. The smooth milk chocolate filled his mouth and he washed it down with a bottle of butter beer. After he had dropped off Grangers bag, Draco had gone to his table to find that a care package from his mother had arrived. Seventeen years old and his mother still insisted on sending him treats every other month or so. He was her only son, so Malfoy never complained to her about it. Besides, no one had the balls to tease him for it and it was nice to have a stash of butter beer to horde. Malfoy was particularly looking forward to his next care package. She had sent a note hinting that Fire whiskey would be in store for her graduating young man.

Finishing the bottle, Malfoy shrugged his shoulders into the large cushion of the green leather couch. No one was in the Slytherin common room at the moment, just the way he liked it. Peace and quiet was a favorite setting of his; no one could disturb his thoughts. He yawned as a wave of sleepiness washed over him. He hadn't slept well last night. For some reason all he could do was toss and turn as the blankets tangled about him in a sweltering mess. Malfoy had to bathe this morning just to get the stink of sweat off. Now he felt good as he kicked off his shoes and rested his sock clad feet on the side table. He felt a little nap was in order…

_He tried to ignore the noise from the bustling Siena street below as it drifted through the window. It was such a hot day out that Draco had been forced to open it, seeing that tugging at the collar of his tunic wasn't enough. He tried to focus on his parchment. Father wanted him to re-scribe their old tattered book on Oveshorn, insisting that there were no other copies to purchase in its stead. Apparently texts on this herb were rare. So here Draco sat in his room, re-writing the numerous pages._

_"We need to be leaving, Massimo," his father said, leaning into the door frame. Draco put down his quill and stood politely._

_"Si, padre," he bowed and started putting away his work. _

_"Worry with that later. If we don't head out right away we will be late," his father waved his hand impatiently and disappeared from the door frame. Draco followed suit quickly and joined his father on the street below. _

_The fierce Italian sun beat down on the two as they made their way around venders and carts. People bowed slightly in respect as they passed by, acknowledging their noble blood. Today his father was dressed in some of his finest, his large hat with its exotic feather plumage showed off their wealth. Draco wore a simpler outfit but one just as fine in quality. His fine linen tunic was embroidered with gold spun threads and was lined with silk. His breeches and expensive stockings and quality leather boots finished the look. However Draco would rather have walked down the streets in peasant garb, at least they knew how to keep cool in this heat wave. Instead social status kept Draco and his family wrapped up in expensive clothing, no matter what the temperature. _

_Their destination was the compound of Lord Armando Perguia. He was a wealthy silk merchant and donated much of his time and money to the Vatican. Today he was holding a small celebration with others of high ranking nobility in honor of his newly built personal chapel. Perguia had requested a private meeting with his father, though Draco didn't know the reason. He was just grateful that the merchant didn't live far from their own residence. _

_The head servant led them through the house and soon they were out in the gardens. Lush shade, exotic plants and countless trees from all over the world hid the walls marking the end of Perguia's property, allowing the viewer to feel as though the garden spread for miles. A large marble fountain, elegantly carved with cupids and Roman gods showed off the true splendor of the garden and Perguia's wealth. People were mulling about the pathways, dressed in their finest. Draco soon found that a house elf was at his elbow, offering him a cup of chilled red wine. _

_"Agosto de Luttoci, it is a pleasure to meet you here," said a young girl clad in a long and elegant gown. She was addressing his father and to his surprise, his father, so full of stubborn pride, bowed back. _

_"Saluti, Lady Camille of Tuscany. It is an honor to meet you again. I believe you are also here to meet with Perguia?" his father said, rising from his bow._

_Draco studied the young girl named Camille with guarded interest. She seemed no more than twelve at best, but here his father was treating her like a superior. It was odd, however, the closer Draco looked at her, her veil of youth fell away, revealing an ancient sense of time. Strong magic radiated from her. Draco felt chilled and he immediately turned his attention to the older…younger girl by her side. She seemed to be his age, though she shrunk from everything around her in demur shyness. Her tight fitting bodice, the style among the ladies as of late, revealed a modest cleavage. It clashed with the modest expression on her face. Her gown was of soft browns, embroidered with a deep green. She was a beautiful brunette; her soft warm eyes looked timidly off into the distance. She was by far easier and more comforting to look at than Camille. _

_"This is my son, Massimo," Agosto said, gesturing at Draco. He bowed politely as Camille turned her gaze on him. She regarded him with a cold, measuring stare. Draco's blood froze in his veins._

_"This is my ward, Ardelle," Camille said. Ardelle flinched at the mention of her name. Draco could feel waves of fear from Camille's ward._

_"Massimo, would you please escort Ardelle around the gardens? Lady Camille and I have matters to discuss," Agosto did not wait for his son's compliance. Camille took Agosto's arm and they made their own way through the garden. As Draco watched, Camille looked back and regarded him with a look that seemed to burn. right. through. him. _

Draco woke to the stinging blow of a slap to the face. He opened his eyes, finding Blaise leaning over him, pale and worried. Malfoy felt weak and as he raised a shaking hand to his face, he realized that he was drenched in sweat. His shirt clung to his chest uncomfortably and his hair felt disgustingly wet. It fell from its normal smoothed back position into his eyes in damp strands. Malfoy sat up and Blaise retreated. Somehow Malfoy had ended up on the floor, wedged between the couch and the side table. Thankfully it was just Blaise in the common room with him… Malfoy had the nasty feeling that he had been making noise in his sleep.

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Blaise broke the silence, sitting down on the couch. "I came in here and you were withering around on the floor, moaning. It sounded like you in awful pain or something."

Malfoy took a shaky breath and looked down at the empty bottle of butter beer. That had been the strangest dream. It had been so incredibly _vivid_. The dream replayed itself in his head as he sat. He had been Massimo de Luttoci, who ever the hell that was. Unbidden, the memory of Camille's terrifying gaze suddenly filled his mind and Malfoy felt himself give an involuntary shudder. Blaise was still watching him intently, expecting an answer.

"It must have been the butter beer. A bad batch or something because I think it made me sick. I'm fine, probably just had a bad stomach ache in my sleep," Malfoy said, rubbing his hands over his face. Through his fingers he could see Blaise giving him a strange look. "I'm fine, Blaise. God, what are you, my bloody mother?"

"Sorry, man. You were just so-," Blaise began but Malfoy cut him off.

"I'm fine so just forget it. I'm going to go wash my face or something," Malfoy snapped, getting up from the couch. He stomped from the common room, leaving a confused Blaise behind.

* * *

The cool water felt good as it poured from the tap. Draco splashed the cold liquid onto his face and sighed. Rubbing his eyes, Malfoy surveyed himself in the mirror. He looked haggard and ill. Dark circles hung under his eyes, making Draco moan. His appearance was something that added to his ego. He was handsome and he knew it. Every girl in Slytherin knew it and every other boy hated it. Malfoy smirked and made the mental note to go to bed early. Dark rings under his eyes were something he most definitely wanted to get rid of.

Draco drank from the stream pouring from the faucet and then went to take off his shirt. It was completely soaked. Malfoy unbuttoned the expensive white dress shirt and dropped it to the floor in disgust. His undershirt was even worse. It practically peeled off of his skin as he went to pull it up and over his head. Malfoy paused in mid peel. Had he scratched himself in his sleep? He pulled his shirt all the way off and looked at himself in the mirror. His brain stalled and when he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, his brain revved as though it was stuck in neutral. Five long red scratches, as though made by fingernails, led down his chest and ended in an unmistakable hand print just below his naval.

Malfoy practically plowed Pansy over as he charged from the Slytherin dorms. He ignored her outraged calls and set off towards the Great Hall. He needed to have a serious talk with Hermione Granger.

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I tried to keep the ending from being another cliffy. I was tempted to stop at the whole brain stuck in neutral line... but I decided that was just too evil. I kinda gave myself chills writing this chapter (which may have been because of the open window next to me) but I tend to really get into my writing. One minute I'm writing page one and all of the sudden I'm on page seven like wow, where did that come from? I hope you guys enjoyed it as much I loved writing it.

peanut18


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys,

Just as a warning, there may be a few typos that I missed in writing this chapter. My brain got a little fried from story over load, but I hope this chapter is exciting for you. If you like what you have read, please review. That always helps me write faster and better (:

A thanks to IrishBlueEyes for reading so far and letting me know when Ive slipped up a bit in spelling and Potter Trivia. (lol I feel really silly about the female Blaise thing. Haha. sorry about that)

Thanks again, guys. You're great.

Enjoy:

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Chapter V

_He was a handsome one, she'd give him that. Massimo bowed elegantly before offering her his arm. Hermione couldn't help the blush that crept up her cheeks. She ducked her head in modestly before laying her delicate hand on the curve of his arm. She felt relieved now that Camille had gone off. The young girl terrified her, although Hermione was positive she wasn't nearly as young as her looks portrayed. A sharp and old magic practically seeped off of her. Hermione had no such magical talents herself, but that didn't keep her from picking up on it. As soon as Camille had come for her at the girl's home, she had felt it. It was like being taken from one hell straight into another. Camille had told the authorities that her father had sent her to pick up a girl to live in their house. They needed a maid and were willing to take on a girl as their ward.  
No one ever questioned her. Soon after arriving to live with Camille, Hermione realized that there was no father._

_"Do you like white wine?" Massimo asked, taking a silver cup from a house elf's tray. _

_"I've only had it a few times, but yes," Hermione took the cup, giving him a small smile as thanks. _

_"Ardelle…that's an old Latin name, is it not? What does it mean?" He was also good at starting up a conversation; she'd give him that as well. _

_"It means enthusiastic," Hermione sighed after taking a small sip from her cup. She watched Massimo take a sip from his own red wine, revealing strong yet lean neck muscles as he drank. His chest appeared to be fine tuned beneath his well fitted tunic and his breeches…_

_Hermione broke her gaze away from its south ward journey and walked over to the fountain, a furious blush splotched her cheeks. The fountain was a master piece. Clear water spouted from Jupiter's mouth and pattered its way back down over the heads of other Roman gods and the many cupids. The marble was pure white, polished to a brilliant and incredibly expensive looking shine. The air felt cooler next to the falling water, something she was incredibly grateful for. Her dress pinched in all the wrong places and it was hard to ignore the sweat the collected just below her breasts. Thankfully no one could see the dampness on the outside of her bodice. _

_Hermione looked back at Massimo and felt her cheeks burn again. He was standing next to her, watching as she surveyed the sculpture. He could belong on the statue. His face was so flawless and his body resembled the lean youthfulness found in many Greek statues. Yes, Hermione could imagine him next to Venus, clad in only a lazily draped robe. He gave her a warm smile and she found herself looking into his gray eyes._

_"You like the fountain?" he asked. She couldn't help but notice how close he stood._

_"I've always appreciated the arts. It shows a finer part of life. The part of life we all wish to live," she replied before taking a rather large, un-lady like gulp of wine. She couldn't help it if she felt nervous around him. The beverage burned down her thought and settled in her stomach, but it made her feel better. _

_"Have this then," Massimo said, plucking a flower off of a nearby bush. "Here's a bit of nature's art to appreciate." _

_Hermione couldn't stop the girlish grin the spread across her face as he tucked the dainty blossom behind her ear. _

* * *

Draco Malfoy was pissed. No, more properly put, Draco was more livid than he had ever been in his life. He steamed down the hallways, causing people to scatter and making first years burst into hysterics. Where was that damn mudblood? Why was it that he had seen a hand print on her and then the next thing he knew, he had one of his own. It looked so violent, the way the fingernail marks made their way down his chest and abdomen. The actual hand print was just a bit too close to his… happy place… for comfort. Granger had to have some sort of explanation, and damn it to hell if he didn't get it from her.

She hadn't been in the Great Hall and whom ever he interrogated claimed ignorance as to her where-abouts. A low growl issued from Malfoy's chest. If one thing got under his skin, it was invasion of his personal space and at the moment he felt more than an invasion, he felt violated. No one did something like that to Draco Malfoy. He stomped down the main stair case and spotted Potter and Weasel by the main doors. Malfoy put on his game face and steeled himself for his attack.

"Potter! Where's that mudblood friend of yours?" he sneered as he approached them, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Sod off, you prick. As if I'd tell you," Potter growled, immediately on the defense.

"Professor Snape wants to speak with her about an essay she wrote last month," Draco formed the lie quickly. Potter was going to tell him where she was, no matter how indirectly he got the information.

"Snape can wait; she's having a rough go lately. So how about you go sit your white Slytherin ass into some dark whole and do what ever it is you do," Potter snapped, turning on his heel. Ron shot him a deadly glare before following his companion.

"You're not doing her any good, you know. The professor seemed very serious. I would imagine that Professor Snape wouldn't think twice on giving her a detention for not showing up. So why not just tell me where she is, I'll let her know, and then she can talk with him and everything will be all fine and dandy," Malfoy called after them. He was counting on hitting their sensitive side, the side that didn't want Hermione to feel any grief. It worked. Harry slowed to a stop. Malfoy could practically see Potter struggle with himself. Which would it be… Potter's hatred for him, or his concern for Hermione?

"Why do you care so much?" he finally said, turning to face Malfoy with a frown.

"I was given an order, so I plan to follow it. He may be my God Father but the bloody prick wills till take away house points if I piss him off," Malfoy tried to sound bored and uninterested. Weasel and Potter seemed to be sizing him up, considering what he had said.

"She went out on the lawn to read again. I'd imagine she'd be coming in soon though, it's getting dark," Ron finally said, reluctance etched into his voice.

At that moment Neville and Ginny approached the pair, asking them something about Transfiguration homework. Malfoy took that as his chance to make his exit. Harry shot him a suspicious glance but answered Neville's nervous questioning instead of following him. Good. Malfoy needed to talk to Granger in privacy. Evening was setting in and the day's heat was beginning to cool off. A light breeze blew over the front lawns, causing just the slightest chill. The lawns were huge, but Malfoy had a hunch as to where she was. And he was right, off in the distance beneath the large oak she had visited yesterday, was the form of Hermione Granger.

He drew nearer and saw that she was lying down, with a book opened on her stomach. Bloody bookworm, did she ever get tired of all that reading? He heaved an irritated sigh and stopped a few feet from her. She was out cold, her robes serving as a blanket to rest on. Great, now he had to wake the bloody wench up. Malfoy crouched down and reached out to shake her arm. He paused however, when he heard her breathing. It was irregular, short, gasping breaths.

He looked at her face closer. She had her head back, the hair away from her face. One hand held the book in place on her stomach, while the other lay clenched in a harmless fist by her head. Her blouse was unbuttoned slightly, revealing the thin camisole underneath. Prone, as teenage boys tend to do, Malfoy's gaze lingered on Grangers obvious cleavage. So the prudish nerd wore a push up bra? Malfoy scoffed and tore his eyes away, looking towards her face. She was sweating, profusely. A tinge of uneasy began to filter into his stomach as he watched a troubled frown crease her forehead.

Hermione suddenly turned to her side and shuddered. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face and hid beneath her jaw line. Malfoy looked around and then up at the sky. It wasn't that hot, clouds were even beginning to roll in over the Forbidden Forest. The light around them was beginning to dim and the air temperature was taking a direct correlation. It was beginning to get chilly. So why should she be soaked? His mind paused, processing the information. Draco recalled dropping his drenched dress shirt onto the floor of the bathroom shortly before discovering his mark. Dread joined the unease in his stomach.

Granger suddenly moaned, startling Malfoy out of his thoughts. What ever she was dreaming about, it was obviously bothering her. He thought back on his own vivid dream and felt a chill creep up his back. Granger was whimpering now, it was pathetic in a way and Malfoy could help the twinge of pity that crept into his heart. A tear collected at the corner of one closed eye. Hermione shook her head violently before letting a cry break the silent evening air. Malfoy panicked, reaching out to shake her arms. She was beginning to sob now, withering on top of her robes.

"Ardelle…."

Malfoy paused, both hands clenching her shoulders. What did she just say? The name had almost been lost in one of her sobs. _Ardelle_. The name danced on the edge of his brain, playing with his memory. It sounded so painfully familiar. He looked at her face, hard. Then it finally hit him, her face was slightly different and at the moment was full of raw emotion. But Hermione bore a scary resemblance to the girl from his dream. She was the freak child's ward or something like that. His mind raced as he made the connection. He needed to wake Granger up. The more time passed, the more questions formulated in his mind. They nagged him, demanding to be answered.

A fist suddenly grazed his cheek, smashing the side of his ear. Malfoy stumbled into his back in a startled heap.

"Bloody Fuck!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her indignant shriek filled his ears. Malfoy stumbled onto his feet, feeling to see if his ear was still intact.

"Damn, woman! What is _wrong_ with you?" Malfoy cursed as he felt at his ear.

He looked up at Hermione, she looked absolutely livid. However, she clutched her side; a pained expression was mixed with her outrage. His ear felt like it was on fire, throbbing painfully. At the moment he held no sympathy towards the crazy bint.

"What's wrong with me? What is wrong with you? You were the one leaning over me like some perverted freak," she snapped as she started gathering up all of her things, clutching them furiously in her arms.

"You wish! Like I'd ever be attracted to an ugly loon lik-," Malfoy began furiously. Her book flying through the air stopped him; ducking was important in order to avoid the spine making direct contact with his eye.

"Enough with the throwing of the romance novels! You're aim sucks anyways!" Malfoy threw his arms up in the air, frustrated.

"That was a warning shot," Her tone was venomous.

"Well as far as I can see, you don't have anymore prissy novels to chuck at my head," he sneered.

Hermione glared, drawing her wand from the bundle in her arms. She said nothing, but the threat was as clear as day. Malfoy really didn't feel like having giant bats made of boogies attacking his face. As much as he would have loved to whip out his own wand, he needed answers. A fight with her, as sure as he was that he would win, would take too long to get those answers. Malfoy took a swallow as he prepared to set aside his fierce pride, and slowly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Listen, Granger, all I wanted to do was talk," he said, taking a step forward.

"Since when do we talk, Malfoy?" Hermione had turned and was walking away.

"Just hear me out, this is important," Malfoy steamed, following her as she marched up the lawns.

Hermione scoffed and kept walking. She wasn't going to give him a chance.

"Damnit to Hell! Tell me how you got that fucking mark on your back!" he exploded, clenching his fists in fury.

She had stopped walking now, still as a stone. She turned, so he could see her face. Hermione was looking at him, a wary emotion swimming in her eyes. They stood there for a second in silence as she regarded him. For the second time that day, Malfoy felt himself being sized up. She shook her head; a defeated look flitted across her face. Granger turned and began to walk away again.

"Hey! Get back here!" Malfoy took after her.

"Just leave me alone," her voice was quiet, all the bite was gone. Her wand was still in her hand, but the length of wood hung limply from her fingers.

"Granger!"

"Leave me alone!" She was beginning to tear up again.

Malfoy was getting desperate, and as an act of that desperation, he grabbed her elbow and spun her around. Tears were beginning to streak down her face, he was seeing that a lot of her lately. She looked surprised; it was obviously an action she wasn't expecting. He gave her a hard look before reaching for his shirt. He watched as her eyes grew impossibly wide with each inch of toned skin he revealed. When the mark was fully exposed, Hermione looked faint. Her wand dropped from her fingers unnoticed.

* * *

Dust filled the library air as Hermione shuffled through book after book. Malfoy fidgeted in his chair impatiently as she disappeared behind a book case, muttering to herself as she went. They'd been in the library since he'd shown her the mark… five hours ago. Since then they had poured through every book imaginable, surrounded by forest of towering book shelves. Malfoy was beginning to feel like the books were about to swallow him up. Under a silent truce, they joined heads, looking for everything, anything that would give them a clue as to what was happening to them. The chances were that it was a curse or some sort of spell. As for who would but them specifically under it and why, that was another mystery all in itself. He had been all for going to the teachers, complaining, and getting the problem solved… that is until he discovered no one could see the hand print.

Everyone was beginning to think that Hermione was rattled. Draco would rather have his arm blasted off by screwts rather than to allow people think that he was touched in the head as well. If that meant solving this problem Granger's way, then so be it. Malfoy was a man of action, so all this thumbing through ancient texts was beginning to wear down his nerves. Malfoy got up from his table, laden with its own fare share of books, and started to roam the many passage ways created by the shelves. Peeves had reared his ugly head earlier, attempting to knock a book case over on them. Malfoy had sent him packing with a quill planted neatly in his ghost ass. He was careful now, keeping an ear out incase the poltergeist wanted revenge.

He rubbed a tired eye and with the other hand absent mindedly rubbed over his mark. He regretted it, for the entire mark suddenly began to sting. The damn thing was annoying, constantly lighting up with pain at random times. The fact that Hermione had no clue as to what caused the marks was a powerful source of frustration that was bubbling inside his chest. He wanted this disturbing mystery solved. Malfoy turned a corner and stopped. He was facing the Forbidden Section of dark books. A dusty chain roped off the area. Had Granger checked any books from this section? It was a chilling prospect. If the answer to their questions lay in one of those dark books, the chances were that they were in deep shit. But it was worth a try, wasn't it?

"Granger! Get over here, I think I'm on to something," he shouted, no one would care if he yelled, everyone had gone to bed. Never in an eon would Malfoy have seen himself working late in the library with one of Potter's best friends.

She responded; her voice muffled through the many book cases. He waited for her, trying to see the book names through the dim lighting. They would have to get a lamp, the lights would be shut off soon and they would officially be out of their dorms past curfew. Hermione was suddenly there next to him, staring at then roped off section. She didn't need to ask to know what he was thinking. Then she did something that caused him to quirk an eye brow in surprise. Granger muttered an incantation and stepped through the barrier that surrounded the ancient books, so much for following the rules. He would have smiled, but the situation seemed a bit to grave at the moment.

Malfoy followed suit, stepping over and joining her as she pulled out a book. It was an old volume, the dragons leather was beginning to peel off the edges. It opened with a sickening crack, Hermione flinched. Malfoy leaned in close, looking at the title page.

_Oveshorn, a Dark Look to the Herbology and Uses:_

_As recorded by Malthus_

His attention turned to Granger as she gasped. He shot her a questioning look.

"That's so strange; I was just writing an essay on this. I didn't realize there were dark properties to it," she whispered, turning the pages. Malfoy didn't bother to comment; rather he looked at the pages carefully. Page after page, there was nothing more than dull facts about the herbs and its uses. He was beginning to lose hope. It would have been ridiculously lucky to have grabbed a book with the right information on the first try. He sighed and began to look at the other book spine protruding from the shelves. Some looked down right brutish in their bindings. One seemed to have human teeth along the edges.

"Malfoy…," Hermione whispered, but he could tell it was urgent. She held the same book, but now she was at the last page, staring at an illustration, crudely drawn in ink. He stepped in to get a closer look, and felt goose flesh rise on the back of his neck.

The picture was of a human, nude from the waist up. His face was horribly disfigured, twisted in what appeared to be agony. On his chest and arms were dark, unmistakable hand prints. They appeared to be bleeding, the man scratching at his chest in desperation. He stood there with Granger, silent and still. A silent horror was beginning to fill both Hogwarts students.

"I-It's called the Il Lamentation… the Lamentation. It's a spell used to transport the souls of the victims into another body. The trademark sign is… hand prints scorched into the flesh," her voice was shaky and the book trembled slightly as she held it. Things were looking deeper that either expected. She took a long breath and then continued. "That's all it says, no further explanation. Doesn't explain how it works or how to counter it. I think we're going to need an outside information source… this is _old_ magic."

Hermione tucked the book under an unsteady arm and ran a hand through her hair. Her mind wasn't entirely processing what she had read, souls being transported? Hermione was too shaken for the heavy reality of it to check in. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to grasp the horrid news better. This curse, what ever it was, was a death sentence in disguise. If someone wanted to move their souls, he'd bet all his galleons that it wasn't for a good reason.

"Let's go," He said, taking the book from her and stepping over the rope chain.

"What? Where are we going?" Hermione was flustered.

"We're going to get you're out side source," He said, grabbing their cloaks from the table.

"And where do you propose we go?"

"Hogsmead, they have a library. I would have thought you knew about it," He said as he donned his black cloak. Hermione held her own in her hands, looking flustered.

"_Yes_, I do know about it. It's the small stone building just outside of the town," Hermione frowned; she didn't like the sarcasm in his voice.

"Then why did you ask? Come on."

"It's dark out!"

"You're point?"

"…and after hours."

"So…?"

"You want to go now… and break school boundaries and curfew?"

"That's the plan, you stupid bint."

"Malfoy… I don't kno-."

Malfoy cut her off before she could protest again. He snaked a hand out and deftly lifted side of her shirt. A shapely side was revealed, smooth white skin she was proud of. He lifted the fabric almost to revealing her bra. Hermione would have screamed and slapped the pervert but instead she stared, floored. A second, ugly red hand print had appeared across her rib cage. Her body felt cold as fear thrummed to her finger tips and back. Malfoy took her silence as a chance to speak.

"Judging from the fact that you have a second mark already, I'm probably not far behind. This curse is acting quickly. We need to do what we can while we still have time," Draco terrified himself for saying it. A cold grip held his body in a vice and he wanted to deny it and believe everything was normal, but he knew he couldn't lie to himself about this.

* * *

They headed out in their dark cloaks, invisible to the eye under a deep blanket of dark. Two figures made their way towards Hogsmead, hearts pounding in their chests. Both unaware of the third, making its way silently behind.

* * *

Another end to another chapter. I hope its still intersting for you all. If you have suggestions, I'm willing to hear them. I have this elaborate story line sketched out on vairous notes (I got pretty serious with this story) but I'm still working on how I'm going to present it all to you. I'm willing to hear all comments, help, and ... dare I say it... yes bring on the flames if you fee moved to do so.

Hope to hear from you, my lovelies!

peanut18


	6. Chapter 6

Feel free to hate me forever guys. It took me way to long to update this time. I'm sorry ): I hope this chapter makes up for it.

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Chapter VI

If someone where to glace out the window, they would see nothing but dark shadows and a cloudy sky. The dark hid them well as they slowly made their way down the road. It was a long walk; most students opted to take the carriages whenever there was a trip to Hogsmead. A carriage, however, was out of the question tonight. The two walked in silence, Malfoy leading the way as Hermione followed suit, looking back at the castle awkwardly. She was hesitant. Sure she had snuck out of the castle after hours before, but that was with Harry and Ron. Sneaking out with Malfoy… just seemed different, as though on a completely different field of delinquency all together. Her nerves in a wreck, she looked at Malfoy as he calmly made his way down the dirt road. His hood was down and his cloak billowed out in the wind. It was dark, there was no moon, yet she could make out the grim determination on his face. A jolt of fear shot her heart, things were bad. Malfoy, Mr. Calm, Cool, and incredibly Arrogant, was worried. She could see it by the way he held his frame.

A gust of wind picked up, causing the large trees around them to sway dangerously. The night had an ominous air about it, and Hermione felt chilled. The distance between her and Malfoy widened and she quickened her pace to keep up. Neither spoke, both were too engrossed in their own thoughts to worry about conversation. Hermione knew where they were headed; it was an old library just past Hogsmead, maybe a quarter of a mile. It was a long walk, and she quickly began to feel weary. Hogsmead came into view, dim wavering bits of light that came out at them through the night. No one would be out, it was past midnight, and they would be able to make it through the town with out trouble.

As they crept among the shadowed buildings, only a few had a solemn glow of a night fire. A few people were up and about, poking at the smoldering embers in their hearths or other in their kitchens. She glanced nervously at Malfoy; he hadn't said a word the entire trip. It felt awkward breaking the silence, so she remained quiet. He would probably say something nasty anyways. It wasn't cold, but Hermione tucked the cloak around her. Were they going to die? The thought seemed distant, unreal, the feeling that dying wasn't something that actually happened to people kept coursing through her mind. Sirius had died, but the actual concept, what it means to die, kept slipping from her grasp.

The Tintern Observatory was located on a sharp incline, nestled into the slopes of the mountains that loom over Hogsmead. Reaching the old building was a vigorous hike up a steep path. It used to be an observatory, the ancient and broken down telescope could still be seen sticking out of the back. The place had a reputation for being peculiar, even by wizarding standards. When looked at from any angle, the stone building seemed to be being sucked into the side of the mountain. It was indeed lopsided; one half of the foundation was slowly sinking into the ground. All use of the observatory had been abandoned and now it was maintained as a quiet library, kept by an elderly man, Vincent Eldgar, who lived in the tenant house next door. It was out of the way and kept a low profile in the world of book keeping. Many people didn't visit it, which pleased Eldgar, who preferred peace and solitude in which to hoard his large collection.

Hermione could make out ivy clinging to the stone face; the blossoms shone a serene white despite the overpowering dark. The wind picked up and she had to shield her face from the dirt that was swept off the ground. Hermione was beginning to get out of breath, her legs were becoming heavy. She was about to halt, needing a rest, when the steep incline leveled out. Small, wild bushes crowded low to the ground, leaving a path like clearing that led to the doorway.

The door was locked, as expected. Eldgar was getting old, but not old enough to forget to lock up. Hermione followed Malfoy as he went around the back, glancing nervously at the small shack of a house a mere 50 yards away. It was unlikely that he would be up, but if the book keeper decided to look out his window, they would be doomed. She felt static build in the air and then a crackle caused her to turn. Malfoy had broken through a spell guarding the rear window. Before she cold say anything, he had hiked up a leg and pulled himself over the frame. He disappeared and she shuffled her feet. Was she supposed to wait for him to offer help and go herself? Hermione mentally slapped herself, it was Malfoy, and since when would he offer her help?

Frowning, Hermione grabbed the window sill and began to pull. The widow was small and just above her shoulder height. Leave it to someone athletic like Malfoy to be able make the move in one fluid motion. She groaned, upper body strength wasn't one of her best assents. About to let go and give it another try, Hermione almost cried out in shock when two white hands reached out and grabbed her elbows. Malfoy pulled her up so that she was able to hook a leg over the sill. Suddenly there seemed to be a pause, a rift in time where everything slowed down. She had never been this close to Malfoy in her entire life. His grip was warm and steady on her biceps; she could feel the heat through her sleeves. Her cheek grazed against his chest as she fell a bit, her other leg coming over the window frame. It was bizarre. Completely unreal to have him this close, to have her heart hammering in her chest. Surely her ribs would break under the assault. Hermione experienced the most sublime feeling as a firm hand came around to the small of her back, steadying her as she found her footing.

In the dark Malfoy wouldn't be able to see the furious blush that stained her cheeks, and she was thankful for that. Thankful that he couldn't see the reaction his smell had on her, his cool musk tickling her senses. She must have looked like an idiot, standing there with her eyes glazed over. Both feet securely planted on the floor, she dared a glance up at his face. His features where mostly hidden in shadows, but she could tell he was smirking. Hermione felt her face grow even hotter.

"Like holding on to me, Granger?" he asked, a smug tone in his voice. She gasped, realizing she'd been clinging to the front of his robes.

"Sh-shut up!" she hissed, letting go and turning on her heel. With a whisper, she lit her wand and surveyed the library. Bookshelves went all the way up to the ceiling, crowded with texts of all sizes. Malfoy came to stand next to her; she could practically feel him smiling. He was too cocky for his own good. Hermione rolled her eyes and made her way down the space between two cases.

"We need to go to the basement," he hadn't moved, instead pointing to the left. Hermione rejoined him and saw the small door that led to the basement.

"Have you been here before?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Once, with my father… he went down there with the librarian. I was young so I wasn't allowed," Malfoy shrugged.

"Probably because that's where all the dark books are," she said, making her way over to the door. Hermione glanced out the window; Eldgar's house was dimly lit and seemed quiet. Hopefully there would be no visits from the old man.

The door, much to their surprise, swung open without so much as a simple 'Alohomora'. Was it safe to go in? The door just swinging open seemed far too easy in Hermione's mind, yet Malfoy went straight in, testing the boards with his feet. They groaned under the weight and for a second, she was sure he would plummet through down the floor below. Each step let out its own creaky complaint as he descended the stairway. His feet touched solid ground and Hermione let herself breath. Malfoy was motioning for her to follow. She hesitated, unsure of her weight. He was making more exaggerated movements with his hands now. _Get your ass down here._ Hermione took a deep breath.

"Give me a break, I weigh more than you, you little waif," Malfoy groaned, crossing his arms with impatience.

"You are so impatient!" Hermione stomped her foot. He could be such an arrogant prick.

"Then what's the hold up? Your grandma panties nailed to the floor or something?" He laughed at that one.

That miserable little… Hermione felt her pulse pounding in her ears. _Grandma panties…_of all the nerve. She zeroed in on his face with all intentions to slap the little grin off of his face. Yes, she'd slap that pale, ferret nosed, gray eyed…

"See that wasn't so hard," Malfoy sighed, walking away.

Hermione was speechless. When had she gone down the stairs? Had her anger put her in a mental tunnel so strong that she had been oblivious to the fact that she was going down the stairs? The stairs were so loud, yet her ears had been deaf. Instead she had been completely transfixed on his face, lost to the world around her. Goosebumps rose on her skin. The idea that anyone, especially Malfoy, could have that affect on her was frightening. Hermione watched him; his back was turned, revealing strong, broad shoulders. She had never really paid that much attention to Malfoy's physique. His sharp verbal barbs had been her main focus through their seven years as classmates.

Now that she took the time to really look at him, she noticed his form. Draco Malfoy was tall but built. Hours on the Quiddich field had toned his body and it showed, even in the dim light from their wands. He kept his hair slicked back and away from his face. A face graced with a strong jaw line and perfectly proportioned features. It was astounding, really, how each feature, his nose, lips, and chin… how they all fit perfectly together. Malfoy moved over to a sagging bookcase, allowing her to admire his gate. He walked in confidence. Hermione had to admit, he could be an asshole, but he certainly made good eye candy.

Then something occurred in the back of her mind, a small, insignificant fact that would lead to a greater realization. Hermione had never seen Malfoy in anything but his school uniform or dress shirts. He always donned his crisp, spotless white shirts and tie. His slacks were never marred by a wrinkle and his shoes always polished. Malfoy labored to keep his appearance up. Yet here he was, in casual dress. Had anyone in the school, besides his dorm mates, ever seen him in jeans? Tonight Malfoy was clad in a very normal looking pair of jeans. They seemed a bit worn, as though he had owned them for a long time. Her eyes traveled up from his legs and received a bigger surprise; Malfoy was wearing a simple white tee. It looked like the type worn under a more formal shirt. It made sense, all of it, of course. He had obviously been in a hurry to find her and despite the protests in the back of her mind, Hermione liked that fact.

Rather unimportant things, or seemingly so, can lead to bigger claps of understanding in unexpected ways. They take the mind and lead it through a complex web of subconscious until they arrive at the big picture. The mind works in mysterious ways and as Hermione Granger observed Malfoy's clothing; his white tee was simultaneously leading her by the hand to the back of her mind. Suddenly she arrived at the mental door step and a linen tunic embroidered with green threads answered the door.

"Massimo," the name rolled off her tongue, a quiet whisper in the muted silence of the basement.

Everything seemed to click at the right moment. Malfoy was Massimo! He was the boy from the dream she had dreamt under the oak tree. Now that she had made the connection, the resemblance was almost too much. Although Malfoy would never tuck a blossom behind her ear, or flatter her with smooth compliments.

"Ardelle," Malfoy said, turning to look at her.

His toned made the subject seem common place while really it was an enormous piece to the puzzle. Hermione sharply sucked in air despite herself. Malfoy leaned against the case he'd been observing and looked at her. He really looked at her, as though reading who she actually was for the first time. His stare was almost as staggering as what she had just unearthed. Who knew those gray eyes could bore so deep into her. Hermione felt the odd sensation of being completely naked, all titles of mudblood and prude swept away, revealing the true person beneath it all.

"I'm not Ardelle," she finally managed, the words barely stretching the distance between them.

"And I'm not Massimo," he replied, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Yet at the same time we are," Hermione broke his gaze and ran a trembling hand through her hair. She swallowed. "When we dream, we are those people, but not."

"As though we're acting out a script, or merely going along for a ride in a body inhabited by another," Malfoy finished for her.

Hermione felt her pulse pounding in her ears again, though not from anger. A cold, violent chill had just settled into every inch of her body. Hermione met Malfoy's eyes again, and the emotion they held said he knew exactly what she was thinking. Both teens immediately headed for the book cases, precariously crammed into the small space. No words were needed, they both new they needed to find an answer, and they needed to find it quick. Hermione began scanning the spines of the books, using her wand to light her way. Her heart never slowed each beat reverberating through her body. Thump. Thump. Thump.

It wasn't death they were facing, at least not yet. If anything, they were possibly facing a worse fate. If they were under a curse that was meant to take their souls from their bodies, then it needed a place to actually _put_ their disembodied souls. Ardelle and Massimo kept reappearing in their dreams; Hermione and Malfoy were mere spectators as the two went about their lives. They were visitors poking in tidbits of another's life. That must be their destination, if the curse was allowed to follow its course. Hermione was going to find herself living in thirteenth century Italy. Which led to another, more nagging question, what would happen to Ardelle and Massimo? It only made sense that if they were to be permanently transferred to another body, it would have to empty before they got there.

Hermione kept scanning, but none of the names popped out at her. Nothing seemed to be of any use. She began to feel frantic. They had gotten luck at the library; it was pure chance that they had reached for the right book. This was like the cliché problem of looking for a needle in a haystack. Through the book case, Hermione could here Malfoy moving around. Shuffling through what sounded like lose papers, books being pulled off shelves. She heard the unmistakable scrape of cardboard against concrete. There was a box on his side. She heard more things being pushed around and then… nothing. Hermione practically sprinted around the case to get to him. Had he found something of use? Hermione saw him, one arm raised as he shone light into the box. His other hand covered his mouth, as though he had kept himself from crying out. There was something in the box that held his unwavering attention. He didn't notice as she leaned over his shoulder to peer down.

Cold hard eyes froze her blood, her heart seemed to stop and her brain spun out of control for a terrifying second. There in the box, was as small but ominous portrait of Camille of Tuscany. The portrait seemed old; cracks lined the surface of the oil paint. Yet age did nothing to staunch her presence. She practically leapt out of canvas and consumed the viewer. She was different from the girl from her dream, her hair brown instead of shocking silver blond. Her eyes were a different color and the cheek bones seemed higher than before. From just appearances, she appeared to be a completely different little girl. But despite the differences, it was without a doubt Camille. Her eyes and the potent age they held was enough to give her away. Hermione could recognize the frozen fear anywhere; only pure evil could give such a reaction.

"Why would there be a portrait of Camille in here?" she uttered, shrinking away as Malfoy picked up the frame.

He turned it around and observed the date on the back, letting out a small sound of confusion. Hermione focused on the lettering and added to his bafflement. The date claimed the portrait had been painted in 1786 but Hermione would swear on her life that the time of Ardelle and Massimo was in the 1400's.

"The name of the artist sounds Dutch," Malfoy said, pointed a finger at the signature. Was his finger trembling?

"Different country… and a different date, she doesn't even look the same," Hermione observed. The picture still made her bones feel like ice, but the inconsistencies put curiosity into her mind. Malfoy placed the painting to the side. Hermione made sure to keep her distance and quickly stepped over to his other side.

"There's a small book in here," Malfoy said. He reached into the box but after a sharp crack, he quickly withdrew his hand with a gasp. Hermione watched as he sucked on his smarting fingers. What ever the book was, it was well protected. Malfoy reached in again, and was able to retrieve it. The ancient book must have had only one bit left.

Hermione leaned in. The book was small and leather bound, metal biding kept it together along the spine. It looked like it was made for journal use, the cover without a title. Malfoy opened it to the first page. The excitement that had been building in her chest faded, it was written in Italian. Her Italian was weak at best, mere phrases used by tourists. Judging from Malfoy's deep frown, he didn't know much of the language either. Hermione jumped when Malfoy suddenly snapped the book shut. Tucking it under his arm he stood, giving Hermione a face full of his robes.

"Where are you going?" Hermione stuttered, scrambling to her feet.

"We need someone who can speak Italian, and I know just the one," he replied.

"You mean Blaise Zambini?"

"Yeah, that means back to the castle," Malfoy said, making his way out of the tight space, Hermione hot on his heels.

"We haven't even looked for anything else that could help us yet! Even more importantly, we don't even know what's in that book, whom it belonged to, or even if it will help us!" Hermione felt like grabbing the nearest book and aiming for his skull. They had come all the way out here and he wanted to leave already? Hermione stopped on the spot, however, when Malfoy turned. He was right up in her face, overpowering.

"How can it help us? This, Granger, is Camille's journal," his breath was hot as it washed across her face. His breath carried a heavy, dewy smell that filled her nose. Hermione felt herself blush and back away. Her heart was going to break from the high speed it seemed to operate at lately. She steadied herself.

"How do you know?"

"Call it a hunch. What else could it possibly be?" He said, waving the little book slightly. "We find her portrait and then this little… powerful book. I have a feeling that Camille has a lot to do with our problem."

Hermione was about to retort, but the words never made it out. Floor boards creaking over head caused the words to crash in her throat. They were alone in the library, and who ever it was sounded as though they had full intentions of coming down to join them.

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I promise that Chapter Seven will come sooner.

peanut


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi,**

**Another delay, I'd like to update faster. One of my pet ferret's ate something he shouldn't have and has been in the vet hospital for the past three days. Thankfully I get to pick up the little guy today! (happy dance) Then I'm going to kick his furry ass for making me worry. **

**Enjoy this chapter.**

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Chapter VII

Draco Malfoy didn't panic; he merely _hurried_ both in mind and in action when a situation began to slip from his control. The only way out was up, and currently someone he knew he didn't want to meet, was coming down. The basement was windowless, small, and cramped. It was the only thing he could do, the mudblood may bitch at him later for it, but it was the only current option. He was already kicking himself for dragging Granger behind the nearest case, next to the stair way. It was a tight spot, and now Malfoy found himself nose to nose with Hermione. _Fantastic_. Bloody brilliant. He knew that it didn't look good. If caught, he'd have Granger practically on his lap, their noses squashed together. Not good for a reputation, in his opinion.

Still… what boy could deny the pleasant feeling of have a girl against him, no matter how annoying? Sure Granger was stuck up, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she did indeed have quite the body. Her robes were open, revealing her blouse and jeans. Malfoy raised an eyebrow; he hadn't noticed it early but the book worm wore surprisingly low cut jeans. If he tugged down on one of her pockets, he could probably get a glimpse of her panties.

A loud creak issued from the top most steps, snapping Malfoy out of his thoughts. He mentally shook himself, now was not the time to be thinking about Granger's panty line. Leave it to insane conditions to give bloom to attraction. He frowned, this was not what he needed right now. He looked at Hermione, she looked frightened and pale. Her wide eyes were fixated on the bookcase, as though she could see through and view the person on the other side. She had blue eyes, funny; he'd never taken the time before to notice. It was dark, but her face was close, and he could make out the light blue irises. They went well with her face, delicate and well proportioned. She jumped slightly as the intruder made his maybe down. Each step was slow and deliberate. He was doing it for effect, fueling the fear tangent in the air. Hermione had her hands against his chest, palms outstretched. She slowly curled her fingers into fists, clenching the material of his shirt. He could practically feel her wild heart beat thumping against his chest.

An arm reflexively went about her waist, drawing her closer as the silhouette of a man finally stepped onto the basement floor. He was tall, the lanky sort, but his hands appeared to be wandless. The absence of the weapon didn't lower his danger level, and the two drew closer together. Maybe if they curled up together small enough, he wouldn't see them. They'd disappear from the basement and away from trouble. Malfoy pressed his hand against the small of her back and he looked at her. Eyes met and an understanding passed between them. They needed to run, and they needed to do it soon. Who ever it was, he knew they were down there. The man took his time, causally looking in between the spaces made by the book cases. He had his back to them, if they could just sneak quietly out…

"STUPIFY!" Hermione shot a blaze of red at his back, so much for quiet, time for plan B. Malfoy grabbed her by the sleeve and hauled her to the stairs. They dashed out, hearts thundering in their ears as the man cursed behind him. He'd had a protective shield on to prevent what had just happened. It had smarted though, that much Malfoy could tell by the violent curses streaming up the stairs behind them. When Hermione place a spell, she did it well. Malfoy smirked; the bastard would be feeling that for a while.

His knee collided with the corner of a desk, pain seared up his leg. Damnit, he'd have to be more careful. Grimacing, he ran after Hermione. Trembling hands tried the window, a futile effort. It only made sense that their pursuer had locked their escape route. They stood there; bile stung the back of his throat. Malfoy's don't panic, they react. Looking at Hermione, she seemed shaken, close to tears. Hadn't she been through tight spots with Harry? Malfoy scowled, or maybe it was because she wasn't with Harry that she was panicking. Did she think him incompetent to get them through this? The desire to prove himself suddenly flared up in his chest, he'd show her. He could hear the stairs creaking as the man came up the stairs, they couldn't stand here.

"Granger, we need to split up," he said, pushing her away from the window.

"What? No!" Hermione clung to his robe sleeve.

"We're a bigger target as two, if we split up then we'll be harder to catch," Malfoy hissed, prying her hands away. Granger's eyes were wild with panic. Malfoy felt himself soften. "Have faith, I'll find you again."

With that Malfoy sped away, disappearing into the library shadows.

Hermione shook, her fingers felt cold and stiff. That bastard better find her again. Hermione hated to admit it, but she needed him. He was the only person at the moment who understood what she was going through. They were united by a common enemy now. Biting her lower lip, Hermione crouched and made her way into the shadows, trying her best to be silent. She slipped like a ghost behind an oaken book case and peered out from behind the volumes. Who ever he was, he'd made it to the top of the stairs, clutching at his lower back. She'd put a lot of effort into the curse, if only he hadn't had that damn shield on they would've had time to slip away.

He straightened, his back giving a sickening pop. She felt her eyes grow wide as he pulled a long wand from the depths of his robe. If he found her… Hermione shuddered. She didn't want to know what he would do. Trying her best to remain silent, Hermione slowly made her way to the back of the library. She was trapped, and she knew it. Where had Malfoy gone off to? Could he hear her breathing? Each shaking breath she pulled in sounded painfully loud in her ears. He would find her. God, he would find her! Hermione fought the sting of tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Get a grip, get a grip. She'd faced Dementors and Death Eaters, why did this man seem to shake her. Was it the curse? Was it sapping her strength? She felt exhausted, when was the last time she had slept well?

He spoke.

"I know you're in here, both of you," he paused, allowing himself a small chuckle. The sound stabbed at her heart.

"You little bitch, I'll make you pay for that back handed trick you just pulled," he snarled the words, his voice low and hard.

Hermione tightened her grip on her wand, palms slick with sweat. Hermione reached back into her mind, beckoning any spell she could remember, anything that would help. Normal jinxes wouldn't work; she couldn't curse him because of the shield. The filthy cheater, hate simmered in her heart. Why were they doing this? Who was he and why? Why, why, why? If she could break the shield she could give the prick what he deserved. Break the shield, how to break the shield? She searched the deep folds of her mind, desperate, but every time she came up dry. Damnit.

Hermione moved to her right, attempting to get a better view of the man, he was making his way the other direction. Books clamored to the ground, death drums banging in her head. She had just screwed herself over. Hermione cursed every fate possible on the aging Librarian, why hadn't he put the books all the way on the selves? Panic took her mind and Hermione bolted, running for the door, not caring that it was locked.

"Got you!" Hermione felt rough arms clamp around her waist, lifting her running feet from the ground. She screamed, she thrashed, scratching at the flesh of his forearms. Get away, got to get away. Help! Help!

He threw her to the ground, and pain numbed her body as her head collided with the hard wooden floor. Every fiber in her being told her to get up and run, but her legs wouldn't respond. She wanted to get off her back and claw for the door, how else could she get away? Crushing pressure stabbed as her lungs as her attacker dug his knee against her sternum. Hermione felt the blood pounding in her heart; it was so hard to breath. A light was shinning in her face; it was his wand, blinding her. Damn him. Hermione kicked a leg, her knee colliding with the small of his back. He yelled. Strike one for the kidneys. He raised his hand, about to strike, when a dark shadow came up from behind.

Crack. Thud.

He fell off her and landed on the ground, his head at an odd angle. Was he dead?

Blood slowly oozed from his mouth, adding to the stream making its way from the deep gash on the side of his head. It pooled on the floor, black in the poor lighting. He was staring at her, empty eyes never blinking. Some one was pulling her up. One arm twined strongly about her waist, the other an iron grip hold on her elbow. It was Malfoy. He settled her to her feet but she swayed, her head and chest were in excruciating pain.

"Hermione?" he asked, helping her regain her balance.

"Is… is he dead?" Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away.

There was a pause, and his grip around her tightened, drawing her closer. Her heavy head rested against the crook of his neck, screw the fact that he was Malfoy. His scent loosened the tighten knot in her chest, she shook as he enveloped her in both arms. Hermione could feel his nose and cheek gently brushing against the soft flesh of her neck. Malfoy's breath poured down towards her collar bone as he spoke, his voice sounded rattled.

"Yea… I think he is," he sounded small, so unlike the Malfoy that she knew.

He had killed a man. Killing with magic was one thing; it was possible to get distant from the death. Hermione looked over his shoulder at the broken chair that lay a few feet behind the dead man. Malfoy had killed without magic, using physical force to end a life. Hermione felt the smallest of tremors run through his body. Emotion surged into her heart. He had done that for her, he'd killed him because he was hurting _her_. Moved, Hermione stirred her limp arms and wrapped them around his waist. The simple act crossed a line, breaking down the barrier of 'enemy' that had separated them for the past six years.

Now they were just two teenagers, clinging to each other, attempting to fight off the bitter bite of reality.

* * *

Warmth was a foreign word to the dark, damp hallways. May was blooming but deep under the earth, cold ruled. Avery took off his Death Eater mask and straightened his shoulders. Ignoring the needle of fear that was working its way into his heart, he placed his hand on the door knob. He was used to the fear that entered him every time he came before Lord Voldemort, especially when the news he had to deliver was bad. Avery took a settling breath and opened the door. He didn't need to knock; Voldemort already knew he was there, sensing his apprehension from behind the door.

The room was lit by a small fire, sheltered in a neat stone hearth just recently built. Two soft arm chairs sat before the fire, one for the lord and the other for the only living thing he trusted, his snake. Avery scanned the room and found his Lord in the corner, feeding the large python at his feet. What was that things name again? Avery kept as much distance from the creature as possible. The snake was too intelligent for his liking. He felt a small wave of nausea hit his stomach as the snake swallowed whole the large rat that Voldemort dropped for it.

"Tell me, I'm not in the mood for games tonight," he spoke suddenly. Avery started. Voldemort didn't look at him. Instead he pulled another live rat from the box he was holding. In the fire light intensified his red eyes and his skin seemed paler than normal. His cold indifference was almost as terrifying as his wrath.

"It's about Stephens, sir," He paused; a large bulge was slowly working its way down the snake's throat. Avery wetted his lips nervously. "Harry Potter's friend and Malfoy's son have been digging faster than we expected. Stephens went out to intercept them at the Hogsmead library but ran into trouble… he's… he's dead, sir."

Time seemed to stretch as Voldemort continued to feed his companion, his snake like face an empty mask. Avery wanted to shift his feet, but kept a calm exterior. His lord was most likely looking into his mind at the moment, seeing if what he had reported was the whole truth, and it was. Avery was smart enough to tell his Lord everything and to withhold absolutely nothing. He was a faithful servant.

A hideous smile suddenly broke across Lord Voldemort's face.

"I didn't realize Malfoy's son had it in him. It's an interesting development, but not an alarming one. Nothing can stop Il Lamentation once it has started," he chuckled, the sound coming out as a soft hiss. He snapped the lid to the box shut and the snake moved away, brushing against the leg of his pants. Avery couldn't stop the shudder that ran up his spin.

Voldemort saw this and allowed a sinister smile to play across his thin lips.

"Once Harry Potter is without his intelligent little friend, we will be able to continue with phase two," he said, making his way over to one of the chairs. He sat down slowly, easing his way into the cushions. Avery was among the few trusted Death Eater's who knew of Lord Voldemort's illness.

"Disposing of the mudblood kills two birds with one stone. Getting rid of Draco will also put Malfoy back into his place," Voldemort continued, staring into the fire. Two long, reedy fingers stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes, Malfoy needs this. He has been causing unrest among your followers, sir. If you don't mind me asking, why not just kill Malfoy as an example?" Avery bowed respectfully after his suggestion, hoping he wouldn't anger him.

"Because I need his son as much as I need the Granger girl. There are many reasons why I'm going about this way. They are important parts to my complex plan. I need to cripple my enemies as well as strengthen myself in one blow," Voldemort looked at him then, his eyes hard and intense. "I'm not ready to die, Avery. Are you?"

Avery's breath caught in his throat. A direct look from Voldemort always froze his blood.

"I'm sorry for my foolish question. Please forgive me," Avery said, bowing low.

"No harm is done, Avery. Go now, and keep an eye on the two of them yourself. The curse should be complete soon and I want regular updates," Voldemort returned his gaze to the fire, dismissing Avery with a wave of a bony hand.

Avery bowed again and left, drenched in a cold sweat. Looks as though he'd get to live for another day.

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**There you go. There was probably a few typos I missed, sorry.**

**I hope it was a good read, review and let me know!**

**peanut**


	8. Chapter 8

Attention!!!!

I'm sorry about the HUGE delay in updates. A Dithering Fortuity has been in the story emergency room for the past week or so. My computer has crashed because of a nasty virus and apparently, according to my snotty computer, I don't have "permission" to view my own files. Apparently they "belong" to another user… whoever the hell that may be. Therefore chapter eight has been unreachable… meaning I just need to rewrite chapter eight again… but I was SO FAR!!! Painful, painful. I'm sorry guys, I hate that I've kept you all waiting. Keep my story in your thoughts and pray that the computer doctors will be able to retrieve all my hard work. I'm very sorry and will try to get my story back up on its feet as soon as possible.

Thank you for all of your wonderful support,

Peanut18


	9. Chapter 9

**Dad managed to save all the files!! He rescued my story (: Enjoy.

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**Chap VIII**

She tried to stop it, but the tide of tears was too great for her trembling eyes to hold back. The scalding saline blurred her vision, obscuring his face which held an intense emotion. She felt shamed, why did she have to cry? How was it that in such pressing conditions she was always the first to break down? Harry was so strong, a shinning emblem of courage and determination. Ron stood by his side, brave and true. Hermione had always tried to match them, fighting Death Eaters despite her frantic heart. Spells were cast from her wand, ignoring her cumbersome fingers. She'd tricked Professor Umbridge, fooling the damned woman into following her into the Forbidden Forest… so many accomplishments, head student at Hogwarts, part of the Golden Trio.

Then why did she feel like such a failure? She felt like a wretched, pathetic little girl sobbing while Malfoy tucked her tightly against his chest. A quiet, disturbing voice spoke to her from the back of her mind. _You are always the first to break down. You couldn't help Harry fight of the Dementors and you allowed yourself to get petrified by that basilisk. Harry had to go in alone to face Voldemort, you should have gone in to help, despite his protests. You always bend, no one likes you. Now look at what you've done! A man is dead because of your horrible, pathetic weakness. _

Hermione Granger, despite the thorns she placed around her exterior, was a tender soul. Once the first sob had broken free from her chest, it was unfeasible to stop the rest from gushing out. Malfoy had killed for _her_. He had saved her by taking another's life. Hermione choked on another sob and dug her forehead against muscle of his chest, dampening the cloth of his shirt. She expected him to push her away, showing his trade mark disgust at her weakness. Malfoy did no such thing, choosing instead to run comforting fingertips through her hair, a kind act that only intensified her agony. She didn't deserve it. How could she accept such kindness when he had lost his innocence in a violent act on her behalf?

"Granger?" Malfoy asked. His voice was soft, tentative in addressing her in her state. He gently pried her away from his shirt and placed his palms in either side of her jaw, cupping her face. His face was paler than usual and his normal mask of calm was wavering.

Hermione attempted to fight the emotion raking her chest.

"I'm so… sorry," she murmured, large tears rolled down her cheeks, wetting his hands before they cooled against the skin. She took a deep breath, gaining a small amount of composure. "You had to… to do that all because of me."

Malfoy sighed, releasing her face. Something powerful caused his face to contort, but as soon as it had come it passed, and Malfoy was as collected as ever. Hermione ran a sleeve across her face, attempting to wipe away the tears. She was tired of crying, it was just too much.

"It had to be done," he said, turning toward the corpse on the floor. Hermione said nothing, watching as he bent over.

* * *

How cruel would it be, leaving the body there to be found in the morning? The aging Librarian might die of the shock, and then they would be guilty of two deaths rather than one. Draco Malfoy took a steadying breath and then grabbed the man's upper arm. He had grown heavy, his stilling body becoming dead weight. Malfoy tried to fight the growing nausea in his stomach, his mind refusing to comprehend. His father spoke of death all the time but never had he seen a dead man. It wasn't what he had thought it would be. How his head had given way under the crushing force of the chair, the way he had fallen.

Thud.

Dead.

There had been no dramatic scene as seen in movies or how it was told in stories. It had been quick. He had dropped like a rock. Malfoy didn't feel strong for saving Hermione, as he had expected. He felt weak and powerless, humiliated and afraid he would vomit. Had he really meant to kill the man? Was it an accident? All he was thinking about when he had lifted the chair was the way Granger had _screamed_. The desperation, the terror… something in her flailing arms had stirred something deep in his chest. He had promised her that he would find her again, that everything would be alright. Malfoy's kept a promise and as that disgusting man had wrapped his arms around her, Draco had felt himself go red. The bastard could have killed her; the force by which he had thrown her frail body to the ground was enough to have knocked the life from her.

He looked down as his face. The eyes were glazed over and void. The more he thought about the way he had hurt her, the less remorseful Malfoy became. He deserved his fate for touching her. He could have killed her… he could have fucking killed her. Draco felt his lip curl in disgust. The temptation to spit in his face was strong but he resisted. He had to be a gentleman and Hermione was still attempting to compose herself. Avoiding the blood, Malfoy hooked his hands under the man's armpits. He gave a tug, testing the full weight. The corpse was large, than man had easily been over 6'5. It wouldn't be an easy chore to drag him.

Hermione wearily walked over to the man's ankles and griped them with steady hands. He met her eyes and felt a wave a relief washed down his chest. She looked calm, quite the opposite from just a few moments ago. Her cheeks were still stained from her tears, but her eyes were dry. With a grim expression, Granger nodded and they lifted the body. It was slow work, but they made their way back to the only way out. All the doors were hopelessly locked, meaning they would have to force the body through the small window that they had entered.

He watched her face. Hermione seemed set in silent determination. It made things easier. Malfoy didn't have a problem with comforting her, although the thought would have been alien a mere day ago. However, at this moment, when he felt so unsteady him, he needed Granger to be strong. Malfoy wasn't heartless and the act he had just committed, as well deserved as it was, left him reeling. He didn't want her to see the weakness; how strongly the tormented emotion ripped at his heart. It was moving, the way her tears felt against his skin and how she had clung to him. Her warmth was inviting but at the same time it threatened to blow everything down. Hermione could easily tap into the swelling sorrow in his chest. He had been so close just then, hearing her teary apology. Another sad note coming from those full lips would have broken him, unleashing tears that hadn't spilt in years.

But Malfoy's don't cry, so he let her go, distancing himself from the edge of something much too deep.

Hermione let his feet drop to the floor; it would take both of them to push the body out the window. She came around and with a grimace, wrapped both arms around his waist. No words were needed; both knew what had to be done. Malfoy grunted as he exerted his strength to get the upper body up and out. Almost… gravity took control and as they pushed the man's legs the rest quickly followed and there was a sickening thud. Hermione sighed, rubbing her hands anxiously against the cloth of her robes as if to clean them. Malfoy leaned his back against the wall, quietly taking in a shaky breath. He didn't want her to sense his distress; he had to keep face with her. Draco watched as she walked away, pulling out her wand.

* * *

She had to get rid of the blood. The body was out of the building but the job wasn't finished. Hermione took a deep breath and stopped by the still puddle of blood. It looked black against the floorboards, the dim light playing tricks. She felt the distinct prickle of tears but fought them back. No more crying. Hermione bit her lip, her thoughts going back to the expression on Malfoy's face. It had been quick, but she not recognized it as despair. She been so consumed in her own self pity that she hadn't stopped to think about how he was feeling. So she wouldn't cry. Hermione would steel up because as much as she needed him to be strong, she now realized that he also needed her.

With a quick scourging charm, the blood was gone. The library now looked as though nothing happened. Hermione fought the sudden, childish urge to stay. She wanted to stay where everything seemed normal. Outside a dead man waited for them and the curse was ever looming over their heads. It all seemed far more terrifying now. They had a clue, as vague as the connection seemed. Malfoy seemed sure that Camille owned the dairy they had discovered but it only left her with more questions. What did the girl from their dreams have to do with the curse? Hermione frowned, giving the library another glance over. Why couldn't it be as easy as just ignoring it? They could both go on with their lives if they could just ignore it and it would go away.

She tripped and cursed. Looking down she saw that her robes had been ripped. To annoyed and flustered to repair them, she shrugged them off and threw them. It was careless. If she left them it would be obvious that a Hogwarts student had broken in. If her soul was taken from her body it wouldn't matter how much trouble she'd get in for breaking and entering. A small laugh sprung from her throat. It was spontaneous but she was to the point were nothing was surprising her. She had just helped Draco Malfoy move a body. She shook her head and walked off, leaving the discarded robes.

As she rounded the corner the sight that met her eyes caused her to halt. Malfoy was leaning against the window frame, staring up at the mountain that cast its shadow on the library. The moonlit world outside contrasted sharply with his profile. The effect gave him a surreal, inhuman look. His complexion was flawless, matching the beautiful light that the moon cast down. Hermione felt her jaw loosen, her lips parted in an awed expression. Malfoy hid his feelings around her, but now that he wasn't aware of her presence she could see the despair etched into every contour of his face. Hermione felt her heart swell. She wanted to make the sorrow disappear and to hold him. The want dissolved all reservation as she moved forward.

"Malfoy," she said, making herself known.

He seemed surprised at first, snapping his head in her direction. She had pulled him from deep thought and it showed by the unguarded expression in his eyes. He gave her a once over and she suddenly felt unnerved. How disheveled was she? Along with the tear in her robes, she knew that she'd lost a few buttons. What did she look like; her hair a wild mess and her blouse half undone? She almost paused and a blush tinted her cheeks. Maybe it would be wise to go back and retrieve the robes after all? Hermione shook off the doubts with firm resolution. She was almost to where he stood, why stop now?

"Don't," he said his voice soft.

She ignored him, closing the remaining step between them. She had planned to embrace him but now that she was so close she found her hand on his cheek. It had been involuntary but as she traced his jaw line with her fingers, the breath in her chest fluttered. His body heat radiated against her, the thin fabrics of their shirts frail barriers.

"Don't," he repeated but it was more a plea than a command. Hermione paid him no heed, knowing that he wouldn't stop her.

She brushed his lips with her thumb, slowly raising her eyes to meet his own. It was startling. His eyes were completely open, allowing her to peer in. His gray irises were beautiful, reflecting all the emotion she felt herself. Hermione felt a soft noise escape from her throat. She had never seen something so amazing, as emotionally raw as Malfoy was now. She cupped his cheek with her hand again and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the touch. Hermione leaned in, instinct taking over. The space between them diminished, hip to hip. She felt him tremble so slightly that, if she hadn't been so close, she would have missed it.

Each breath he took washed over her as she brushed her lips against his. It was soft, chaste, and she hadn't expected it of herself. Where had the comforting embrace gone? Her heart jumped as he opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. A moment passed, an eternity to her frantic heart. What had she just done? Hermione was about to apologize and step away, thoroughly embarrassed.

A hand came from behind and wove itself into her hair, caressing the back of her neck. She gasped, her lips parting in surprise.

Malfoy gazed her neck, his lips brushing along the sensitive skin.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He pressed the small of her back, grinding their hips together.

What had she just started?

Her heart beat against her chest as he nibbled an earlobe.

"Malfoy," she could barely get his name out as he nipped along the soft flesh below her jaw.

He came up to her mouth and spoke, each word sending gooseflesh across her skin as lips grazed lips.

"Don't say anything."

Before she could react he took her, enveloping her in a hot, heavy kiss. His lips were strong and smooth, caressing her mouth. He suckled her bottom lip, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head. Malfoy's musk filled her nose as he continued his attack. He was eager, ravaging her open mouth. Hermione was breathless, melting beneath his touch. His hand left her hair and ran down her back, joining his other that was playing with the back hem of her pants.

A heavy drop of heat landed in her stomach as his hands cupped her bottom, giving the roundness a soft squeeze. A low moan broke from her throat, unchecked. What was he doing to her? It was hard to concentrate on any one thing when Malfoy was toying with her back pockets. She should have pushed him away and rejected his sudden and passionate advances. However, for the first time in Hermione's life, she didn't think. She didn't _want_ to think. The usual prude Hermione suddenly found herself running her hands up Malfoy's shirt, feeling the firm muscle beneath.

Each kiss was returned with equal fervor. They panted, forgetting all the boundaries that had once held them. He explored her hips, running his hands over the curves as she trailed kisses down his throat. Hermione felt hot, the clothes clinging to her body. The internal heat teased at her mind, desire hazing her judgment.

Her blouse hit the floor, leaving her in her thin camisole. The fabric did nothing to hide the black bra beneath. Hermione sighed into Malfoy's mouth as his roaming hands found their way up to cupping her breasts firmly.

His white cotton shirt joined her blouse, soon followed by the camisole.

The skin to skin contact left them breathless, encouraging them on. Malfoy lifted Hermione up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. With her back resting against the wall he had the leverage to nuzzle her chest, playing with the remaining garment.

* * *

Outside the skies had cleared, leaving the stars to stare down with an all seeing gaze. The moon was bright, casting an eerie light on the body of the dead man, forgotten below the library window.

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I felt you guys desrved a little action after that three week long lapse. I hope it was okay and I didn't proof read very well so if you want go ahead and point out all the typos and gramatical errors. Anyhting to make me a better writer (:

peanut


	10. Chapter 10

**Well it's been almost two months... sorry guys. I am shamed. Thanks to caste-aeon for all her help and the wonderful emails!**

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**Chapter X**

Ginny woke to the distinct beginnings of a sore throat: the sour, ill itch that unmercifully took its time as it pulled her from a restless sleep. Each tickle made her cough; another toss and another turn in bed, until finally, at around 3 a.m., she sat up, attempting to ignore the unbearably sluggish weight she could feel pressing down on her shoulders. With a soft groan, she rubbed at the glands on the side of her neck, willing the unpleasantly sticky feeling to recede. It was only after the overwhelming clutches of deep sleep were drained from her senses that she was –finally, _oh, finally—_able to peer into the dark confines of the dormitory with a partially clear head.

The moon's light fell across the well-worn floor stones in fragile rays. For a second, Ginny held her breath, unnerved; the frail light seemed to break as the warm flesh of her bare foot made contact with and disturbed the balance of the solemn cold stone. From somewhere amidst the darkness of the dormitory, a small breeze teased its way across the drapery, and tickled the tender skin at the base of her neck. Ginny pulled a face, staring into the oppressing dark as sweat glimmered on her temple.

Suddenly, an owl passed by, a looming dark shadow that tore across the irregular shape made by the window's frame. Ginny tucked a whisp of ginger hair, pale in the night light, behind an ear as she turned her gaze outside. The storm had passed, and small, determined droplets of water clung to the glass as evidence. The grounds seemed to be washed in a hue of silver, the green of the lawns irrelevant to the breathtaking spectacle the lake provided. It shone out like a mirror against the perfectly manicured lawns. The surface lay motionless as it gave off a perfect reflection of its surroundings.

She sighed as memories resurfaced from the back of her mind. Her mother had always loved Christmas. Though it was a muggle tradition, Molly Weasley would tromp into Wizarding gift stores, a healthy glow lighting the generous freckles on her warm cheeks. She was especially fond of setting up small winter scenes on the bay window seat back at the burrow. She'd place out the white roll of cotton and place each little house with care. As a wizarding touch, little lights would always illuminate the interiors and, to Ginny's delight, small silhouettes would cross the window panes occasionally. A magical milky cloud would hover above the set up, dusting a soft snow on the small town and its inhabitants. Her mother would enable the porcelain figures to walk about the streets and gather in groups to sing carols.

Her favorite part, however, was the round mirror that her mother would place on the center of the town. It would frost up, and the small people would skate across its surface, performing dainty jumps and elegant figure-eights. Ginny always loved to lean over the miniature skaters and peek at her reflection in the glass. It was as though she was a giant, gazing over the homely town. She would never touch; a sore ear, after all, was the punishment for messing with her mother's arrangement. Ginny was about to sigh but, instead, ended coughing, her throat scratching together as though made from sand paper.

Embracing her neck with a small hand, she glanced over the grounds again. It was odd, nothing seemed to be moving. Everything was still, a frozen picture of eternity, as though someone had taken a muggle picture of Hogwarts' lawns and posted it on her window. Ginny leaned closer towards the window, touching the glass with her finger tips. The clouds, left over from the rain, stood stationary in the sky, waiting for the wind to come and push them away. An eerie sense settled into the back of her mind, and she couldn't fight off the sudden shudder that forced its way up her spine.

Shivering, Ginny wrapped her arms around herself and turned.

She froze.

Hermione's bed was empty.

* * *

_The room was stuffy as the day came to a close._

_The dinner guests did their best to ignore the irksome heat. Sweat pooled beneath their clothes, restricting and irritating the wearers. Elegant gowns, though beautiful to the eye, acted as ovens. The ladies didn't let their discomfort show, hiding the unpleasant sensations behind demure smiles and wide fans. While high-necked jackets were in style, the heat made the men feel as though they were being choked. Appearance, however, in this time and age of society__ was of the up most importance; suffice it to say that the guests were miserable, but they were all to proud to do anything about everything._

_The ladies were patting at the air, through their fans, with a vicious streak, as a quiet chatter started filling the room. Everyone smiled, and everyone laughed. Although everyone knew no one was having a good time; it wasn't a big secret at all, even an inexperienced noble would have felt the gruesome tension. Despite this truth, however, the lie kept its hold over the small gathering. So they sat, picking at their plates and pretending to enjoy each other's company. _

_Ardelle gave her ante pasta a helpless look, her appetite suddenly gone. How could she eat? Her nerves had been shot to hell with Camille watching her every move. _Eat properly, don't slouch, and for God's Sake, don't spill anything._ She'd spent her life in an orphanage, how was it fair to abruptly expose her, drop her, into this high society life and expect her to perform well? Camille had a sharp tongue, and it was more than obvious how much pleasure she took from making insulting derogatory remarks on Ardelle's every move. Why had she taken her in to begin with? _

_She straightened her shoulders, trying her best to appear mature. She may be miserable, but she wouldn't let it show. Besides, there was one thing that made this horrid dinner party bearable. And that thought made Ardelle blush, permitting her eyes to cautiously drift across the table. Gray eyes waited for her, causing her stomach to jolt. _

_Well, she certainly wouldn't be able to eat now. _

_Massimo gave her a knowing smile, and her heart fluttered. He was the only presence that got her through these functions. When she was busy looking for him, she realized, his gaze was already fastened on her, minutes before she found his. _

_Their eyes made contact, and a spark of electricity alighted, passing back and forth unsaid messages. The moments they had alone where generous; she couldn't shake the feeling that his father encouraged it, allowing them time to roam the gardens in peace. It was shocking, considering that she came from a family with a low background. Perhaps, Ardelle frowned as she took a sip from her glass, he wasn't aware of her status because of Camille._

_"I don't know about the rest of you, but I think the gardens would be beautiful tonight, si?" the host, Agosto Maccabeo, announced as he pushed away from the table. A pleasant murmur of agreement followed as others followed suit. _

_Ardelle sighed and allowed a smile to ease her features. The party had taken a turn for the better. The vicinity outside wouldn't be much cooler, but a gentle breeze would be enough to cheer everyone's dour mood. Camille rose from her place, languid and steady, and made her way to where Ardelle sat. On her heels, Camille was barely taller than Ardelle who was still sitting, but her presence enough was intimidating. The cold hand of fear claimed Ardelle's internal sentry as Camille place a small, delicate hand on her shoulder. She was a beautiful child, despite her appearance of a tragic mask. Behind that exterior lay an evil, bitter woman with nothing but cruel intentions. It was the knowledge of this that stuck the deepest cord of terror into Ardelle's heart. If this woman had no kindness, then what was her purpose for taking her? _

_"Escort Lord Massimo around the garden. I'm sure you can find some way to entertain the youth," she said. It was a loaded request; her tone was as slick as fish oil. All she could do was manage a weak nod under Camille's unwavering gaze. A humiliated blush burned the tips of her ears as the people, who heard, exchanged chuckles. _

_Camille left her side and preceded the flow of people out of the dining pallor. Ardelle bit her lip, furiously attempting to fight back the flow of tears. She was an object of ridicule under the harsh stares of the ladies who passed. She always observed a decorous behavior, but Camille's statement, with her dark insinuations, ensured that people would start doubting her. The linen napkin in her hands was twisted into a tight cord, and her knuckles were white as she wrung the cloth further. _

_"Ardelle?" a warm hand covered her pale, trembling fingers. _

_Massimo was bent at her side, steadying her hands with his own. They were alone and laughter drifted in through the open doors. She forced a smile and took his hand. He helped her to her feet but didn't return the smile. Had he heard as well? Ardelle lowered her eyes to the floor as her spirits sunk further still. _

_"It was very cruel, what she did, and she had no right to make you the object of such attention," he said, his tone soothing. She relaxed and readily met his gaze. His face was blurred as tears filled her vision. _

_"Thank you, I don't deserve your kindness," she said, wiping dampness from her eyes. _

_"It's nothing. Now, I believe we have a garden to stroll," he said, his suave manner taking over. He hooked her arm with his own and steered her out of the room. _

* * *

"Honestly, Avery, I don't see why we're being dragged out at this ungodly hour. It's bullocks, I tell you. Complete and utter shat. I could be sleeping righ' now but no…"

Avery stopped his steady pace to watch as his companion kicked at the ground, a sour expression twisting the red facial hair that blocked most of the Scotsman's features. MacKraggon was a complicated piece of work. Avery just didn't know quite how to figure the man out, meaning, very simply, that he didn't trust him. He was a large man, though comically short. His strong stature was undermined by his depressing lack of height. If he had been a muggle, MacKraggon would have been a sad case of the classic "Bark bigger than the bite". But unfortunately, he was most definitely not. The damn Scott gave him the chills, though most of that was attributed to his elusive history. Where the hell had the man come from? Because of the mass of scratchy beard, his age was unknown to even the highest DeathEaters, but his eyes were bright and had few lines, leading Avery to believe he was at least decently young.

He complained about the insignificant facts; late missions out always left him biter and unsettled. Yet Avery could tell, he could see as clear as day that beneath the flimsy façade of discontent, the thrills of excitement vibrated through MacKraggon like a well tuned instrument. He was like a young man out with the big boys for the first time. Despite the overwhelming aura around him that seemed to scream "Newbie!!" the man handled himself with such expertise that Avery himself felt just the slightest bit threatened. The guy knew what he was doing. He had to, otherwise why would Voldemort have had him brought in from the North?

"Wha' are you starin' at, Shathead?" MacKraggon has such a pleasant mouth.

Avery felt the corner of his mouth turn down in disapproval. Unable to degrade himself to the level at which he would actually reply to the loaded insult, he turned on his heel, his cape swirling in a dark rush behind him. The path was wet and slick; they had a long walk ahead of them. MacKraggon released a lengthy string of foul language as he walked away.

"Why don't we just bloody aparate there?" MacKraggon demanded, 'Lumos'ing his wand into life.

"The crack would give us away. Stealth is our main objective if we plan to intercept them on their way back from the library… if they've left yet," Avery muttered, carefully stepping over a broken, moss drenched fence post.

"So the fella sent before us didn't get there in time, eh? I outta ream the bastard out for slacking off when we meet up," MacKraggon barked out a hoarse laugh.

Avery stopped and regarded the rough man with a measured gaze; cold, serious, and collected.

"I honestly don't see the point in admonishing a corpse, Mr. MacKraggon."

He didn't wait for a response, knowing very well that he'd gotten the message across. He heard his fellow Death Eater follow suite as the realization that things were far more serious than expected settled in between the pair.

* * *

Floorboards never made for a good pillow; pulling Draco Malfoy from the exhausted slumber that had gently tugged him away from consciousness. They had both spent more energy than could be afforded, coming onto each other the way they had. It had been reckless, impulsive and irrational… yet he had desperately needed it. Granger had surprised him, initiating the whole ordeal with such soft lips. After pushing the body out the window, he'd been ready to keep on moving, to get back to Hogwarts and to find an answer to this whole bloody mess. Then she was there, bearing an expression he'd never expect to see on the prude's face. She'd been kind, sympathetic, but the predominate emotion Malfoy had seen riding her features was desire.

Had this whole catastrophe of events raddled her brains, spurring her into a temporary, lustful state of mind? A sinking rock of dread pulled at the base of his stomach as Malfoy weighed this possibility. Despite his infamous reputation, Malfoy rarely allowed anyone into this level of intimacy. He'd wink and smirk, taking more pride than he should in the wanton stares that followed him along the corridors. The rumors ran rampant but unknown to many, Draco kept his pants up and tightly zipped. He just wasn't comfortable with allowing someone so… close.

Yet here he was, every inch of his skin pressed firmly against someone, whom only a day ago, he considered an enemy. Hermione shifted her shoulders, allowing a small sigh of air to escape from her chest. She was still deep in sleep, allowing Malfoy to keep to his thoughts in the silence provided by the Library shelves. Worry momentarily slipped away as Malfoy lost himself in the sensations her body gave him. The body heat radiated off of her back as he wrapped his arms around her and meshed his legs with her own. Draco swallowed as he felt his need grow once again, nestled in the space provided between her thighs. The soft flesh of her neck was overwhelming; he couldn't resist brushing his lips over the smooth skin.

Where had all this come from? What strange omniscient being placed the two of them together in this absurd situation? It was as if God was bored with the usual depressing goings on in the world and decided to stir things up. _HA! He thinks he knows exactly what's going on? All right then, what can I do to throw a wrench into Malfoy's life? Something good… interesting… hmmm. Let's throw in a little teenage lust mixed with a deadly curse. Fun, fun!_

Draco pressed his forehead against the back of Granger's head and frowned, as if to hide the angst that grappled with his insides. He pulled her closer, grinding her bare backside against his pelvis. How had he allowed this to happen? A low, throaty growl tickled his vocal cords and he felt his want intensified. A small whisper emitted from the sleeping girl as her body responded in turn, arching her back to allow better access. Draco's hands found their way down her body, exploring her hips, teasing her breasts. The moan that built up in her chest vibrated through him, stirring up a foreign emotion that seemed to cause his throat to swell.

Things were never simple, but on the floor of that Library, Malfoy was content with the basic explanation that they had needed each other. With both of their worlds crashing down simultaneously, they'd both needed something, an amount of comfort to steady the ground beneath their feet. Did it mean that they were compatible in a different situation? If it h ad been any place else, anything different, would things have turned out as they had?

Malfoy didn't know and he had to be honest with himself, he didn't care. He just wanted something stable to lose himself in, and Granger was perfect.

"Malfoy?" his name was soft, barely spanning the gap from mouth to ear.

Her eyes were closed and he could tell that she was hovering somewhere between sleep and reality. He wanted to allow her more time, she deserved to rest, but time was short. Malfoy could make out from the pale light starting to peer in from the open window that dawn would soon be breaking. His lower regions objected, strongly, but Malfoy released his hold from her curves. Tucking the cape they had haphazardly laid upon around her body, he pulled away. His pants back on, Malfoy quietly padded over to the small window frame. The cool freshness that tinted the air announced the arrival of the coming day. They needed to get back.

Fully dressed, the lithe blonde began to pull himself through the window. He needed to check their surroundings before they made their way discretely back to the castle. He looked down and stopped. The body they had dumped was missing.

* * *

The heat was overwhelming, a sickly stickiness that clung to her skin like a thousand menacing hands. They pulled at her hair and smothered her airways. Something seemed to be constricting her movements, holding her down. She needed Malfoy, where had he gone?

God… her abdomen was on _fire!_

She really needed to get up.

She needed to find Malfoy.

She needed…

She needed to get away. The heat was oppressive and released a familiar fear into her system. She felt her body jerk, moving on its own accord. What the hell was holding her down? Panic tightened its hold on her chest and she could taste the bile as it burned at the back if her throat… like poison. She thrashed her arms and legs, reason abandoning all her senses. _Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your damn eyes!_

_Reality was lost, the spaces between two realities opening and swallowing whole… taking her away. Taking them both away._

The sharp hard crack of bone against wood shattered her state as quickly and as profoundly as a gunshot ripping through silent air. Her breathing was heavy as the ceiling of the Library swam in front of her eyes. She felt frail yet her body clung to the floorboards as if it was impossibly heavy. She was goo, completely and utterly spent. A painful burn pricked at her stomach.

She lifted herself to her elbows, examined her bare body, and the hideous, fresh mark that had seared itself below her chest. Another handprint. Hermione fought back dismay as her bottom lip trembled.

_SHIT._

"Malfoy?" she questioned, her voice bouncing off the walls and shelves of the empty Library. Where had he gone? Hermione attempted to ignore the cliché scene that played itself in her head. The woman wakes up alone after finally opening herself up to the dashing male. She shook her head. Why would he abandon her? They were both in the same boat. Hermione pulled the cape she'd kicked aside and worried the cloth between her fingers.

He wouldn't… would he?

* * *

Yea, it's been a while but I hope you all enjoyed it!

peanut


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi guys!! I had this written up along with the other chapter and decided to post it today after I did some editing. I hope that its okay, I'm not very good with editing.**

**By the way, I don't complain about reviews too much but I have to say that if you take the time to read someone's story... then _REVIEW FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_** cough sorry but yeah, that's how I feel :3

Thank you Blue Irish Eyes for your wonderful review! And to those whose questions I answered I hope everything made sense.

Okay, Enjoy!!

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**Chapter XI**

His limit had never been pushed so much. In the past two days he'd done his best not to panic. Malfoy found with dread that the control he once had over his clean-pressed, polished existence was slipping between his fingers like water; his attempts feeble and futile. Right now he should be pushing himself away from the softness of his bed sheets in his four-poster bed and blinking blearing eyes in the harsh light of his bathroom. Words could not describe how desperately Malfoy wanted his well-starched dress shirt, forming his shoulders into crisp lines. Where were his leather belt and dress shoes?

Draco Malfoy scratched at his five-o'clock shadow. A shave right about now would do him wonders. A grimace stretched across his face and crinkled his forehead into a scowl. He would get none of those things, not while he was crouched behind a bush, staring down at empty earth. His mantra of "Malfoy's don't panic" had run dry in his mouth, completely and utterly useless, because the truth be told, he was panicking. He hadn't expected to become a killer and in a way, it was Granger's fault. She had to go put herself in danger, stirring up violent emotions inside of him that until now had lain dormant. _Damnit._

Malfoy stood up and swatted at the dirt on his pant sleeves in disgust. Yup, the body was definitely gone. He forced a dry swallow and ran a hand across his tired face. He felt like screaming… as if screaming would fix his problem. Someone had taken the body, he'd searched everywhere around the library. Golden rays began to peer over the ridge of the mountains that nestled around Hogsmeade. The rising light bleached the dark sky into a pale blue. It was a beautiful sight, one of those moments that capture the viewer and fill them with sublime awe. Draco couldn't take any comfort in the rising suns performance. Instead of a beacon of beauty and hope, this sunrise filled his chest with sinking dread. They were running out of time.

A loud rupture of birds suddenly launched from their perch on the dead. The decrepit old pine swayed precariously above the librarian's house like gnarled fingers. It was a fitting tree for the old man… whose kitchen light had just blinked on.

Malfoy took off at a low sprint and with a skillful jump that surprised even him; he made it halfway into the window and straight into Hermione Granger's face.

"_Fuck!"_

Hermione looked up at him like a wounded soul, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she clutched at her nose.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Um… no," she said as she pulled herself to her feet via Malfoy's arm.

"Good, then we need to get out of here. Now." He said as he scrambled the rest of his way in.

"Is someone out there?" panic dominated her voice as Hermione dashed over to the window and peered into the morning mist that had emerged from the forest.

"Yes! The librarian is waking up," Malfoy wrapped his arms around her waist and quickly yanked her away for the open window.

"He'll see us! Shit, shit, shit," Hermione cursed at her fumbling fingers as she fought with her robe.

"I'll just have to aparate us."

"Malfoy-," Hermione pulled back.

" I'm not stupid, Granger! I'm going to aparate us as close as possible, not actually on the grounds. God, you think you're the only one to have read that stupid Hogwarts history text?" he snapped, grabbing Hermione by the wrist and pulling her closer.

"No! The body, Malfoy, what did you do with the body?" she replied, holding him away at arms length. Her face looked strained with exhaustion and worry.

He hesitated, would it be wise to tell her? For a terrifying second the words clung to the back of his throat, leaving him mute.

He regained his voice.

"I hid it up in the forest. Don't worry, no one really goes up there," he lied, praying his voice wouldn't give him away.

She stared at him for a moment, a hard line forming across her forehead. Words seemed about to emerge but she kept quiet and, to his surprise, nodded in consent. Relief momentarily eased the pressure over his chest and he took a deep breath. In tenderness that caused a soft gasp to escape from the curly brunette, he gathered her to him, preparing to aparate.

"Malfoy?"

He sighed. "What now?"

"You passed your Aparation Exam, right?"

Draco couldn't help it, he laughed.

* * *

"What the fuck do you mean she's gone?" Ron barely kept his voice above a scream.

Ginny stood her ground against her brother's wrath, after all, how the hell was it her fault? Her hands shot up to rub at her temples, attempting to think properly at this hour was unheard of. After discovering her empty bed she resisted the urge to scream right there and then. Who knew what had happened to her, especially considering how she had been acting lately. Uneasy guilt stabbed at her chest when she allowed the thought to wander into her mind, but what if she'd finally cracked and was wondering around somewhere? Hermione had layered so much pressure on herself… Shit.

She took a quick look over at Harry. He'd sunk to the couch, propping his chin on a well-formed fist. He looked exhausted and she didn't blame him. Ginny knew the relationship Harry and Hermione had was chaste, but his fondness for her often-stirred jealousy that she had to fight down. Hermione wasn't competition, how many times had she told herself that? At that moment Harry stood, drawing Ron's frantic attention.

"What are we going to do?" Ginny asked, leaning on the plush armrest of one of the common room's sofas.

"Just let me think," Harry clutched his hair in his hands and stared into the fireplace. His vibrant green eyes were intense as he clenched his jaw, a sure sign that he was thinking hard.

"I'm going to get the Marauder's Map. If she is in the castle, we'll know," he said finally. Without waiting for assent from his companions, Harry disappeared up the staircase.

Ginny sank down onto the armchair and laid her head in her hands. Wasn't Hermione supposed to be the strong one? She'd always looked up to her as a role model, a big sister figure who always gave her aid. Now suddenly the tables were turned so dramatically. A sharp sensation filled her nose and she felt her eyes prickle. She clenched her fists in frustration. No, she wasn't going to cry now. She could be strong like Hermione. She'd prove it.

"Bloody Hell," Ron propped his hands on his hips and glared at the floorboards. His frame looked painfully thin in the firelight, his pajama pants hanging from his hipbones. He pushed his red mange away from his face in an aggravated movement and allowed another curse to escape into the silent air between the siblings.

"I can't believe she's doing this," Ron said, crossing across the room to extend his newly found habit of glaring at inanimate objects. This time the window received the full brunt of his anger. How dare it show the cheery scene of sunrise! A large expanse of cloud started to make its way across the sky, as if reflecting Ron's temperament.

"Can't believe she's doing what?" Ginny asked, rising from the soft cushions of the armchair and taking a defensive stance.

"This! She's been rubbing her intelligence in our faces all these years and when we need her she suddenly decides to crack and go all loony!" Ron whirled around from the window and threw his arms up in the air.

"How could you say that? She's saved our butts with that intelligence ten times over!" Ginny tried to bite back the yell, her words issuing out in a harsh whisper. The last thing they needed to do now was to wake the entire Gryffindor house.

"Who cares about those times? This is now and now has a very real, very much _back-to-life_ you-know-who! Damnit, Ginny, we _need_ her and now… now she's backing out on us," Ron made a cutting motion with his hands as he said the last few words.

"Is that what you think this is? Is that the reason you've been such as ass lately?" Ginny felt the anger rising in her chest and barely noticed that she was marching across the room to her brother. She jabbed an accusing finger in his face and hissed, " You are so fucking selfish! This isn't about her backing out on you, Harry, or any of us!"

"Sure seems that way to me," Ron growled, his face growing red in the dim lighting.

"Who figured out about the philosopher's stone and the basilisk? Whose resourceful spells have always kept us a step ahead and who, God Damnit, is the smartest witch in this whole bloody school?"

Ron to a step back, his expression shocked after his sister's passionate reply.

"Hermione," he finally muttered.

"Yes, Hermione! Do you think that was easy for her? While you and Harry have had your minds stuck up in the air after a snitch, she's been in the library giving her all on pursuing knowledge! You complain about one measly essay while she does five! She's finally broken down, Ron. She put too much on herself and I know we didn't help with that either. We expected her to be the brains and that expectation finally wore her out. She needs our help, not our anger," Ginny felt herself soften with concern for her friend.

Ron frowned and cast his eyes to the floor, admonished. Ginny took a deep breath and the form of Harry at the foot of the staircase caught her eye. The expression on his face told her that he'd heard the entire encounter. Green met gold as their eyes met with a force that could crumble mountains. He nodded to her, a sign of fierce respect that shot mixed feelings down into her soul. That respect was earned for her devotion to Hermione. _Yes, Hermione… but he's with you and only you._ Ginny shook the painful sensation away from her chest and walked over to him.

"She's not in the castle… or the grounds," he said as she reached him. His strong shoulders were tensed, giving off the strong shapes of well-form shoulders that were born from hours of Quiddich practice. Ginny notice that he held the precious map clenched tightly in his fist, sure to scar the parchment with deep folds. She looked up into his face and tussled black locks and despite the jealous that she loathed biting at her heel, she felt love stir up deep and powerful from her chest.

Ginny laid a tender hand on his arm and said, "Where should we start?"

"First we get dressed, then we find that bastard Malfoy," his words were curt but she saw fondness in his eyes as he regarded her. His hand found hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

* * *

The blow to Houff's head was gruesome, but Avery regarded the carnage with cold indifference. Malfoy's boy had definitely packed a punch. It was surprising that the kid had used brute force rather than magic but was inconsequential; the end result was that a Death Eater was dead. He honestly couldn't gage how the Dark Lord would react to this news. The scout that had been sent informed him of his companion's untimely demise but he'd chosen not to have his subordinate interact with the two. He was young and unskilled in such a way that his interaction would have turned things into an unfixable mess. Instead he'd ordered the body removed and kept the information to himself. He'd rather tell Voldemort of the death _after_ he had the bodies of the boy and the Granger girl.

"You've been her' all nigh'?" MacKraggon was dogging the scout with questions.

The young man was in his twenties and still had his lanky teenage frame and unfortunate acne. Pot marks plagued the youth's cheeks and forehead. His eyes held a dark, eager glint. He flashed Avery a quick smile of scum covered teeth before nodding in answer to MacKraggon's interrogation.

"Yeh, yeh I was here all night and had a front row seat I'll tell you," his eyebrows waggled suggestively as he took a rather daring poke at MacKraggon's side his boney elbow.

"Ha! They didn'! Busy little rabbits aren' they now! I bet your blood was warm all nigh'," MacKraggon laughed aloud, a hard bark that caused an explosion of birds to erupt from an old pine leaning over the book keeper's house.

Avery gave his fellow a hard glare as if shooting venom with eyes alone were possible. The Scott pretended to take no notice but when he spoke again, his voice was significantly lower.

"How well could you see? If only the Dark Lord weren' so ill he'd be able to come out and enjoy watching tha' roll in the hay!" MacKraggon slapped the boy on the shoulder and stopped.

They all froze as both men turned their eyes on the young scout. His mouth was open in surprise, shock registering in his eyes. He looked quickly between his two superiors and horror immediately replaced shock. Without a word Avery drew his wand and issued a silent curse. He was quick, deadly, and efficient.

The boy fell dead to the ground like a stone, gone.

"You bloody bastard! I don't know how close you are to the Dark Lord but the way your mouth wags tells me that you're an idiot," Avery uttered through clenched teeth.

"No idiot, I just happen to hav' no regard for human life is all," The burly man chuckled lightly as he walked over to the body, kicking it lightly with the toe of his boot.

"Well excuse me if I don't feel like going around killing off everyone you let that slip to just because you don't feel like watching your mouth," Avery flicked his wand at the body with a sneer and it disappeared into the air, a portkey in itself back to headquarters.

"So what? The blighter is getting' old and frail, that littl' heart of his startin' to fail. Even with a new body he can't escape the basics of that genetic curse. If we weren't out here doin' wha' he needed us to do, he'll die the same way his ancestors did. If yeh ask me, he owes us one," MacKraggon said over his shoulder, smugness dripping from his voice.

"You're bold to speak of his situation like that," Avery said as his mind absorbed the new information that had just been handed to him. So the jerk was as high up or, possibly, even higher up on Voldemort's chain than even himself.

"I'm interested to know how involved you are in all of this," Avery asked coolly.

"I'm thinkin' yeh want to know if I know more about this operation than you," MacKraggon challenged, turning to face Avery in the eye. The two men stood off in silent contest.

Suddenly the faint, yet unmistakable pop of aparation reached their ears.

Their eyes clashed knowingly before both men simultaneously aparated, reading their prey's movements with chilling accuracy.

* * *

Harry stared at the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room in despair. How had he over looked the fact that he didn't know the password into his enemy's lair? He shot a hopeless look over at Ron and Ginny, his leadership momentarily shattered. Suddenly Ron walked up and spoke, "Bogglewart."

Ginny and Harry both stared at Ron in equal, wordless amazement.

"I over heard Crabbe complaining one day about it. The buffoon's as loud as he is stupid," Ron shrugged, his characteristic blush tinting his face.

"Well then, let us go kick some Slytherin ass," Harry said as the doorway emerged from the cold flagstone wall.

* * *

**There you go. Tell me how it was!! Storylines are going to start colliding very soon! And by the way, if this chapter gets a sad lack of reviews I just might end up waiting a few months or so... nah I'm not that mean... or am I...**

**peanut**


	12. Chapter 12

Yes... It has been far, far too long. Fanfiction had to take a back seat to school work and I will admit that I've been a bit preoccupied with my other story 'Bed Sheets'. I apologize and if you want, flame me into a crisp. I deserve it for taking so long. After this chapter I promise that answers will be given and the story will start to reach its climax. I imagine probably three more chapters and it'll be finished. Maybe. I hope you like it.

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**Chapter Xll**

Draco's mistake was evident as soon as he felt his feet touch the ground. He was never really sure if it was Hermione's sudden whimper or the cracking of aparating enemies that first reached his ears, but as soon as the early morning air touched his face the danger was potent. The air was heavy with a foreboding sense that immediately crawled up his skin, sending every nerve in his body on high alert. Their feet had barely touched the ground before he dashed behind the nearest shelter, towing Hermione's suddenly heavy weight behind him. The simple stone fencing would save them only seconds, but Malfoy was already plotting his escape route as the first telltale signs of lethal curses cracked against aged stone.

It was hard to tell how far away they were; therefore, as slight as it was, time to escape was a possibility. Just a second between them and the unfathomable forces that pursued, but it would have to do. Too focused to look back at Hermione, Malfoy gently took her hand and guided her along the low line of the fence. He'd aparated them to the outskirts of Hogsmead, meaning their cover was sparse. If they were going to get away alive, he needed to be clever. He could aparate again, but would that only lead them further into what appeared to be the enemies trap? Was it merely a good guess on their part as to the location where they would aparate?

A sharp crack and bits of dust and shards of stone showered down, cloaking the two in a gritty gray. Shit, the seconds he had assumed they would have proved to be short lived. Hermione screamed as another blast, the strongest yet, smashed the wall with a blinding force. Grout flew and shattered stone beat against their bodies as their only shelter faltered. Shearing pain tore across his forehead as rock ripped his pale skin. Malfoy grimaced, trying his best to ignore the warm blood that spilt down his cheekbone as he clutched Hermione to his chest.

"Malfoy!" A voice suddenly rang out on the air, silencing the chaos that had just ensued.

It was a cold voice, calculated and calm, completely dispassionate. Malfoy screwed his eyes shut in despair as his stomach took a sickening dip; the voice was one he recognized. Things were a bit easier to understand now, though it gave him no comfort. Somehow the Dark Lord was now involved, which was worse than having some unknown enemy.

Hermione shook in his arms.

"Be a good boy now, Draco, and come out. We've only come to talk," Avery shouted, his forever-dry tone giving his identity away.

"As shown by the hole you just blasted? Fuck that, asshole," Malfoy countered, edging over to chance a peek out of the now ghastly gap between what was once careful masonry.

Avery wasn't alone. A rough looking man was edging his way to the left, towards a sagging, depressed looking barn. From where he sat, Malfoy could just make out the passageway that would allow their enemy access to their side. Typical tactics, keep the prey distracted while it's being surrounded. Malfoy wasn't surprised; it only made sense that the confident pricks would use something so simple because, after all, they were "children".

"Don't be a little ass. If you come out now we can settle this peacefully," Avery reasoned, his voice drawing closer.

The second man's shadow, elongated from the morning sun's angle, fell over the low wall. He would be on their side any minute. Malfoy nudged Hermione and gestured toward the shadow. He needn't have bothered, she was already aware; eyes trained on the offending shadow as it skulked nearer. Her wand was drawn and at the ready. She looked furiously determined.

And ill.

Her skin had taken on an eggshell pallor and her normally full lips were drawn in a tight line. Despite her steady hand, there was unevenness to her, as if she'd crumble like aged paper at the slightest touch. Malfoy twined his hand into the waistband of her jeans, grip like a vice so that when they aparated, as he had now chosen to do, he wouldn't lose her. Her enemy- their enemy, was now clear. The force he'd been raised to join had now thoroughly pushed him onto the other side. There really wasn't a doubt now that Voldemort had foul intentions for them both.

Their eyes met for a brief second, brilliant blue on arrogant grey, with a connection that had not existed 48 hours ago. She gave him a brief nod and then, to his complete undoing, offered him a sad, resigned smile. The small twitch of her lips cut at his heart deeper than any knife could plunge. Did she think they were about to die?

…Or possibly head down a path that led to a worse end? The world around him momentarily forgotten, Draco Malfoy desperately searched the Gryffindor's eyes. Their passion last night couldn't compare to the feeling that threatened to combust in his chest. Before had been lust, compulsive and careless.

Fighting next to each other, sharing this terrifying battle next to a girl he had once hated based predetermined judgments was making him feel something that Malfoy had never experienced before. He knew what it was but as pessimistic as he normally was, had left it to the pages of storybooks. Seeing Hermione's resigned sorrow was almost enough to have him flying over the wall, sending curses at the more experienced wizard. What kept him rooted, however, was the warmth with which she looked at him. Her blue eyes blazed with beauty that before he had always been blind to. The emotion that reached out from her and wove its hand around his chest was unmistakable, but he could barely believe it.

She was sad to die, but she was glad to die with _**him**_.

The suddenly realization ripped a gash in his chest, making coherent thought temporarily impossible. With out warning he grabbed Granger to his chest, locking her lips on his in a heated kiss. Assuring her, without words, that he felt the same and that he _would_ get her out of this. When the softness of her lips left him, he saw tears collecting at the rim of her eyes as she buried herself into his chest.

The moment they had just shared seemed to slow down time, but Avery's impatient sigh told him it had only been mere seconds. Finally paying attention, he saw that the man's shadow was almost at the end of the wall, about to turn to their side and blast them to oblivion.

"Well you know what I've learned being around Death Eaters, Avery?" Malfoy shouted, securing an arm around Hermione's slim form.

"What's that?" he responded, boredom etched in his voice.

Malfoy pointed his wand at the spot where Avery's accomplice would appear.

"There's never anything PEACEFUL about them!" he roared, sending off a stunning curse at the form that had just leapt out at them.

He waited only to see the stout man fall before aparating them away.

* * *

"FUCKING HELL!!!" the curse erupted out of him with out thought.

He was a fool, a complete fool! He had sent MacKraggon over with the belief that he could actually pull it off. Now the idiot was on the ground, useless until the curse wore off. Avery's calm was shattered as he kicked at the ground. First a dead man and now this, how could he possibly go back to the Dark Lord with that? MacKraggon had messed the plan up; careless in his actions despite the evidence that Malfoy's son could pack a punch. Avery shoved his fists into the deep pockets of his cloak, clenching his wand so hard that he vaguely thought it might break.

"Well, that couldn't possibly have gone any worse," a voice snaked its way around him.

Avery prickled at the sound, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. _Fuck_, was the only word that came to mind as Avery slowly turned on the spot in order to face _her_.

"Camille… what a pleasure," he greeted her through clenched teeth, stiffly ducking his head in a quick bow.

The child's sharp eye's seemed to crackle with malice as she smiled, revealing perfectly proportioned, white teeth. Perhaps it was his sour mood, but those pearly whites seemed to end in sharp points. Camille drew closer, pulling her fur coat more firmly around her shoulders. In the pale morning light her skin looked flawless and profoundly unreal. That was to be expected, after all, no one could expect her to be rosy cheeked when all she really was, was a mere shell. This Camille was an intelligent copy of the original.

"I had a feeling that somehow things would end up like this, so I took my leave of your Lord's presence and came to supervise," her Italian accent smoothed her words despite the bite of anger they held. She walked across the road to the mess of rubble his curse had made and kicked at the broken stone.

"I stopped by the library before I came here, it seems that they've found a book of mine," she continued, not bothering to spare a glance in Avery's direction.

"What's in it?" he asked simply; too tired at this point to play games.

"I don't know. My present self hasn't lived that long yet. I already informed my original, she doesn't know what her future self could have written but she thinks the book could… cause complications," she made eye contact at the last two words before she continued her way over to the fallen Scott. "Although seeing that you've lost them multiple times means that things are getting far more complicated than they need to be."

She nudged his shoulder and sneered.

"There was also a portrait of me, though I never thought my original would go for a body with darker hair. It seems to be from the mid 1800's, so perhaps the book is from that time as well. Not that it matters, what we need to do now is get back to headquarters and find a way to fix your mistakes before the curse takes both of them." Camille said, leaving the unconscious man.

Suddenly a malevolent grin spread across her face.

"The girl did look an awful lot like my Ardelle… too bad she wont be around much longer to enjoy it."

* * *

_His passion had knotted her hair and as Ardelle attempted to work out the tangles, she couldn't help but smile. Massimo had surprised her. After weeks of flirtatious conversations he'd finally swept her off her feet. She could hardly explain the excitement as he had wrapped one of his arms around her, strong with lean muscle, and with the grace of a lord, had steered her away into the shadows. What had transpired made a furious blush seep onto her cheeks even in the warm lighting of her room. He had taken only what she was willing to give and she respected him for that. He'd protected her honor, keeping them from stepping into a level of intimacy that would only cause problems. _

_Ardelle laid down her brush and straightened the folds in her nightdress. Yes, it had been a perfect evening. In a daze-like state, she brought her fingers up and brushed them against her lips. They still felt swollen from his constant attentions. He'd tasted so sweet, yet incredibly masculine. A jolt still shot into her stomach when she thought of his warm tongue smoothly making its way into her mouth. _

_Massimo de Luttoci ignited a fire in her belly that she'd never felt before. It was a womanly urge that pressed incessantly between her thighs, making her realize how fully she had grown._

_She was 16, perfectly natural for a marrying age._

_Perhaps Camille and Lord Agosto de Luttoci were planning such an engagement for them? It would only make sense; seeing that they always seemed to insist that the two of them spend time together. It really would be wonderful, being his wife. Then she could finally ease the urges she felt in the warmth and security of a marriage bed. _

_Suddenly restless, Ardelle stood from her bed and walked over to her small window. It had a good view of the city, the lamps igniting the streets below in an orange glow. The dark shadows of late travelers occasionally stole across the cobblestone streets, adding flavor to the otherwise ordinary scene. _

_She sighed; Massimo would be an excellent father. His kind patience constantly soothed her and his actions tonight told her he was compassionate. A more common man would have taken everything she had, leaving her a disgraced woman. Massimo had shown her he could wait for such temptations; he cared more about her than his own physical needs. She giggled suddenly, clasping her hands over her mouth at the thought that suddenly invaded her mind. She was probably just being a silly girl having childish daydreams, but their children would be beautiful. She smiled. Things finally seemed to be going well. _

_Her mood suddenly changed with a sharp gasp. _

_She'd forgotten her linens out on the airing line. Camille was harshly strict on having an orderly house. If she found out that she'd forgotten to take them off the line in the courtyard, Ardelle would pay. Not bothering with shoes, Ardelle scurried from her room. She held her breath as she slowly inched her way down the staircase, praying that the old wooden steps did not creak. If she took care of things quickly then maybe she would be lucky and escape her ward's wrath. _

_The house seemed dead; all the servants had retired for the night, thus leaving the house in a state of stillness. Only the soft padding of her feet broke the silence as she stepped onto the stone patio that occupied most of their compound's courtyard. There they stood, her various garments billowing softly under the moons rays. As quick and efficiently as she could, Ardelle ran out and gathered the clothes in her arms. They smelt of the warm sun that had faded away only two hours previously. _

_She stepped with a lighter heart as she made her way back into the house. Success. _

_Low murmurs caused her to still. _

_The kitchen door was partially open, allowing Ardelle to see directly through to the servant's street entrance. The moon highlighted the two figures as they stood in the street. Their business was secret but still their voices drifted through the kitchen to Ardelle's ears. _

"…_you gave it to him?" the smaller one whispered._

_Camille._

"_Yes, I-I did," the larger one replied, his voice masculine. _

_There was a long pause in which Camille seemed to be scrutinizing the tall man._

"_You are faltering, Agosto," she stated, her voice carry a dangerous undertone. _

"_He is my only son, how could I not?" Agosto de Luttoci replied, his tone short. Through the darkness Ardelle could see the man wringing his hands. _

"_Lord Voldemort will reward you greatly. Imagine, with eternal life you can have hundreds of sons. Massimo is worth the sacrifice. Certainly your seed can produce an equal, if not better son once you've had your choice of women over the centuries," her words were oily, yet they seemed to ease Agosto's troubles. _

"_And you, Camille, will no longer have to prey on the bodies of young women to attain your youth," he said and in the silver night light, Ardelle saw a wicked smile stretch across Camille's face. _

"_Yes, I will be able to stay in one body forever," she replied, sounding satisfied. _

_Ardelle gripped the clothes to her chest, fighting a silent scream of horror._

"_Tonight will be the night, I slipped some of the oveshorn extract into her drink while she was off with your son. The Il Lamentation has almost run its full effect on Voldemort's victims; we need to be sure that their bodies are ready to receive them. Once Massimo has collapsed, you must bind him tightly. Voldemort chose the two strongest willed people he had for the ceremony, expect a fight from them," Camille instructed, shoving what appeared to be bindings into Agosto's hesitant hands. _

_Ardelle began backing away as disbelief jarred her mind. A deep terror was slowly poisoning her insides. The horror numbed her so that she didn't notice the lamp she knocked over, sending shattering glass everywhere. _

_She barely heard her scream as everything went black._

* * *

"Where is he, you bastard," Blaise Zambini hissed, his wand inches from Harry's nose.

Harry was shocked, to say the least. No sooner had they stepped foot in Slytherin territory Blaise Zambini had popped up out of nowhere.

His wand drawn and murder in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded incredulously. His wand was in fighting stance as they stood each other off. Ginny and Ron were also armed, however Zambini never gave them a second thought.

"Malfoy! You were the last people he was with and now he's gone. There was something wrong with him, no doubt something of your doing," he accused, jabbing his wand for effect.

Harry blinked as his words registered in his brain. From somewhere behind he heard Ginny's shocked gasp. His wand lowered a fraction of an inch.

"We came here to confront him. Hermione Granger has gone missing," Harry said, frowning.

"The mudblood?" Blaised asked, taken aback.

"Last time we saw Malfoy he was demanding to know where Hermione was," Ginny said, suddenly charging to the front of things. "And _don't you dare call her a mudblood_!"

Blaise regarded the five foot three, red head with wide eyes. An awkward silence stretched out as the four teens stood, unsure of where to go next.

"We thought he had something to do with it," Harry confessed, picking at the hem of his pocket uncomfortably.

"As I did of you," Blaise countered, his eyes looking at all of them in return. "I had just been on my way out to do what I guess you've already done. How'd you get our password?"

"How would you have gotten ours?" Ron asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Blaise merely gave the Weasley a sneerallowing the matter to pass.

"What now?" Ginny asked, gnawing at her bottom lips viciously.

They should work together as it now seemed that neither was the enemy of the other in this matter. Ginny didn't care, as long as they found Hermione in the end. However all three boys seemed incredibly uncomfortable, eyes suddenly glaring. She snorted in disgust. Of course it was going to be this way.

"Oh come on, children," Ginny snapped, driving her fingers into her hair in frustration. "Lets just go out and look for them. Would it really kill you to join force just this one fucking time?"

"Hey," Blaise started, "I am not a child-."

"Don't shout at her!" Ron interjected, stepping up to place a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"Well you don't get snippy with me, Weasel," Blaise sneered, twitching his wand back and forth for effect.

"How dare you!" Ginny sputtered, stepping forward.

"Enough!"

All three stopped in their tracks, looking at Harry after his outburst, silenced. Harry rubbed a frustrated hand over his brow, knocking his glasses slightly askew. He seemed to battle with himself for a second and then spoke in a strained voice,

"We need to find Hermione, you need to find Malfoy… seeing that he went looking for her the last time we saw, they must be together."

He sighed, grimacing as he said his next words.

"Lets just try to find them before we wake the whole damned school up… not like we have much time as it is."

Ginny couldn't help the admiring smile that sprang onto her face.

* * *

Hermione was deteriorating.

Drastically.

Malfoy gathered her into his arms and lowered her to the floor. Aparating had worsened her condition, leaving her weak and limp. Her deathly pallor had worsened and now a cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Knots of worry made him feel sick as he wiped the perspiration off her skin. She looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, seeming to barely hang on.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice was dry and cracked.

"What for?" Malfoy asked, gently lifting Hermione's head to cradle it in his lap. He'd never felt so sentimental in his entire life, yet embarrassment didn't register as he looked down on her face.

"For doing this," she said, giving a small exhausted laugh.

"Granger," Malfoy smiled, "Are you always such an idiot?"

She looked ill, but as she smiled up a little spark of live flashed through her eyes. A silence stretched out between them. Malfoy took the time to finally take in their surroundings. They were in a small shack filled with various knick-knacks, his secret place in Hogsmead where… as ironically as it seemed now, he took the few dates he'd had when they wanted to fool around. It was clear on the other end of town, so while it wasn't the best place, they should be safe… at least for the moment, he hoped.

"I never thought I'd like you," Hermione spoke up, breaking Malfoy out of his thoughts.

It surprised him briefly. Her sudden confession was so unlike the Granger he knew. How long ago had it been since they had been sworn enemies? Less than 24 hours. It was like an over night transformation. It made him nervous; however, not wanting to agitate her, he let a little smile bend his lips.

"You're not the only one, bookworm," he said, trying to keep his tone light.

"I'm serious, Malfoy. You're different, now that I've spent this time with you," she said, looking up as him with intense eyes. Searching eyes.

Malfoy was silent for a moment, returning her stare. Then, as if someone had thrown off a switch in his brain, he didn't care anymore. Malfoy didn't care if all these feelings had come on too fast, or that they might fade just as quickly. He didn't care because Hermione Granger was the only person who understood what he was going through right now, and she was right there with him.

He moved, gently sliding her head off his lap and onto his arm. Becoming horizontal, Malfoy lay on his side next to her and pulled her against him. He couldn't form any words. At the moment anything that came out of his mouth would seem cheap, robbing the moment of the emotion coursing through his body. Actions seemed to suffice well enough. She let out a long sigh, her warm breath washed over his face. She eased against him and wound a fist in the material of his shirt. Minutes passed, Malfoy forced himself not to panic at her labored breathing. It was light, as if the will to breath would suddenly evaporate from her entirely and she would simply cease.

"Malfoy," she suddenly spoke. Her voice was as small as a child's.

"Hm?"

"I don't want to die."

The statement caused him to rise up on one elbow. He looked down at her and frowned. Death had been all too real back behind the wall. He had steeled his nerves against it and now that they had escaped, some childish part of his head had shouted in triumph. Nothing could get them. However, he knew it wasn't true. Death Eaters never stopped. Granger knew and now he was looking down at a girl who was pale and frightened. She gave him a weak smile, her bangs obscuring her right eye. He reached out and lightly brushed the hair away, the sudden tenderness in his touch leaving him shaken. He couldn't think of what else to do. There didn't seem to be any other response that would calm her.

Craning his down his neck, Malfoy brushed his upper lip against hers. They held eye contact as he brushed again, allowing her bottom lip to be caught between his. Her eyes fluttered closed as she opened her mouth, allowing him to take her in a full kiss. It was soft, warm, and Draco used all he had to reassure her. He broke away, kissing her face. Her cheeks, nose, and chin were showered in his attentions and he held her close. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in deep, attempting to calm his own seriously flayed nerves. A foreign emotion tightened his throat and began to sting his nose.

"Hermione, I-," he began but was cut off. The most heart-wrenching noise struck his ears and he pulled away.

Hermione let out a choked sob as she looked around frantically. Panic flashed across her face as her body began to shake. Soon she was convulsing, he head bouncing off the floor and coming down again with a resounding, sickening crack. Malfoy scrambled to his knees and attempted to hold her down. His mind seemed to be whirling in several different directions as he grabbed her hands. They slipped through his grasp, slick with sweat. She batted at the ground with her hands, clawing as if she were attempting to latch on. Malfoy could only watch in horror as a handprint began to form across her throat, a furious shade of red. She grabbed at her throat, struggling as is she was being strangled in some twisted lovers feud.

She flipped onto her stomach, twitched, and then stilled. The small space of the room fell heavy with silence. The sound of his own horrified breathing fell silent on his deaf ears. He seemed stuck, like a photograph, unable to comprehend what had just transpired. He was merely a representation of what had happened and any understanding of the situation was up to the observer. His mind lurched about, grasping onto bits of reality as his froze state began to melt. Shaking uncontrollably, Malfoy shuffled forward and tentatively touched her shoulder.

She didn't move.

"HERMIONE!"

The shout ripped through him, through his entire being as he pulled Hermione onto her back. She rolled over like a limp doll, lifeless. Her eyes stared passed him, up at the rafters. He shook her, frantic in his actions.

"Granger… Granger, don't do this! Come back! _Come back_!" his voice suddenly grew hoarse as he held her body to him, crushing her against his chest.

If he willed it hard enough she'd come back. If he yelled enough, Granger would start to move again. Cradling Hermione in his arms, Malfoy rocked back and forth. His chest gave a shuddering heave, capturing the air inside with bone breaking force.

He was alone.

* * *

**Not the most pleasant chapter. I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Comment and let me know!**

**-peanut **

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